My Past Mistakes
by katilange
Summary: Peter Parker thought that having his girlfriend's dad drop a building on him was the worst that could happen. But Tony has unintentionally created enemies, and when Peter is kidnapped, the billionaire will do anything to get him back. Sometimes stories don't seem to have endings, and the threats just seem to keep getting worse; leaving Tony wondering if it will ever stop.
1. Chapter 1

Peter's fingers twitched, tapping on the metal desk in front of him. He fiddled with his pencil, occasionally chewing on the eraser. His brain worked to solve the complex math problems Mr. Stark had recently dropped on the table for him.

"_Here you go kid. Ah ah ah! Before you complain! After you do this, we can get to the fun stuff." His motioned his head to the current Mark he was working on. Peter spun around in the black office chair._

"_Yes! Yes, yes, yes!" _

_With a chuckle, Mr. Stark left the lab, presumably to a meeting._

After four failed attempts at solving the problems, he finally leaned back in his chair and sighed. Ugh. He just couldn't focus today. His thoughts kept turning to his previous mission. With Vulture defeated, Peter had been left with this empty feeling that he could or rather, should be doing more.

He swiveled in his chair distractedly. After a few minutes of staring at the ceiling, Peter eventually was consumed with boredom. He resolved to take a walk, reasoning that getting out of the lab and getting some fresh air would do some good.

"FRIDAY, if Mr. Stark asks, I went for a walk."

The chipper female voice responded with, "Will do, Mr. Parker." He grabbed his backpack (just in case), and headed to the ground floor of the Avengers tower. He waved to the security guy on his way out.

"Bye Dave! You're doin' good work around here," Peter raised his hands in double finger guns. Dave lifted his hand, waving goodbye to the boy.

Not two minutes after he had stepped outside, his sensitive ears picked up sirens wailing in the distance. He groaned. Guess it was time to be Queens' favorite superhero.

This was NOT going well, and Peter knew it. Bright flames were rapidly consuming the small office building that he was sure was a paper company. The only letters he could make out on the sign read: D N ER MIF LI

"Karen, how many more people are still in here?"

"My scanners are detecting four more," she confirmed. "One on the floor where you currently reside, and three on the floor above us." Spider-man quickly found the first one person. She was short and had shoulder length black hair. He could swear she was holding on just a little too tightly, but swung her safely out of the fire to the waiting paramedics anyway. He shot a web to the 5th floor and launched upward, landing on a windowsill.

Peter could hear yelling through the crackling of the fire. He dashed towards the voices, dodging embers and debris that fell from the ceiling. He found the last three, two men and woman with reddish brown hair. They huddled in the corner of their smoldering office. Peter was starting to get dizzy from the amount of smoke he had inhaled, but ignored it for the moment. Grabbing the two men, he stuck a web to them and gently lifted them to the ground.

There was wet coughing coming from behind him, and he turned to see the lady. She was hacking into her arm and her head started to loll. "Hold on now, ma'am, I'll get you out." Once he was sure that the other two were safe, he rushed back to the woman. He grabbed her and swung out of the building.

His head was pounding and he was coughing a lot. Does that happen when you inhale smoke? Peter wasn't sure. He just wanted to get out of this stupid building. Suddenly, Karen's voice rang into his ear, "Wait, I am picking up one more person. Basement floor."

"Ok, Karen, guess I'm going in," he wheezed.

When Tony walked back into the lab, he hadn't expected it to be empty. Peter was just here! I mean, he had given him some hard math problems. The kid couldn't have been done already.

"FRIDAY, where's the kid?"

"Mr. Parker was going for a walk, although his suit has recently been activated outside the tower."

"What? Where?" Tony pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. Peter never stops.

"A paper company has recently caught fire; would you like me to bring up live news coverage?"

"Sure." He wanted to make sure that it wasn't too serious.

The camera was pointed at a brown brick building that was slowly being destroyed by the raging fire. On the ground, a man shouted up at the building, "Ryan started the fire! Ryan started the fire!" The live news also showed Spider-Man swooping in and out of the building easily, saving dozens in less than five minutes. A female anchor appeared on the side of the screen. "This just in, live footage from a fire in downtown New York. Police say that the flames were most likely caused by an electronic appliance that was left on for too long. The small paper company-"

"Okay FRIDAY, that's enough. Just let me know if anything changes."

"Of course, boss."

Tony figured the kid could handle himself for a bit. Besides, FRIDAY would let him know if anything was off.

It had been 20 minutes when the AI's voice alerted Tony.

"Mr. Parker is leaving New York at a rapid speed. According to his vitals, he appears to be unconscious."

"What?! FRIDAY, track him now!" Tony lept into action, calling his suit and flying out of the tower. What had Pete gotten himself into this time?

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Also, did anyone catch the subtle Office references? If you did, we can automatically be friends. **

**I hope you keep reading and that you enjoyed! ;)**

**-katilange**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hey Y'all. This is the updated version of Chapter 2. Hope you like it! :)**

The first thing Peter felt was numbness. Then, as feeling slowly crept back into his limbs, he felt pounding in his head and his wrist. He groaned and tried to adjust his position, but found his legs and arms were handcuffed to something. He cracked open his eyes and was met with darkness.

From what he could feel, he was handcuffed to a chair. Normally, handcuffs were no problem, he had superhuman strength after all, but his arms and legs wouldn't obey him. Nevertheless, he tried tugging at them with all his might, and was met with disappointment.

"Ah ah ah, Peter. Let's not waste your energy. You're gonna need as much of it as you can get," a soft voice called from somewhere in the darkness. Peter squinted his eyes, trying to see whoever had spoken, but even his advanced vision had not adjusted to the pitch black.

"Who are you?" Peter's voice was hoarse and raspy. "What did you do to me?" He was met with a chuckle.

"Nothing compared to what I am going to do to you, _Spider-Man_." Cold fear crept up the young boys spine. Despite himself, he shivered. "There are many ways to punish a person, Mr. Parker. Sedation of the limbs is hardly torture."

"How do you know my name?"

"Peter… do you think I'm stupid?" It seemed like an honest question.

"Is that… rhetorical?" A laugh rang through the room.

"I've spent a long time developing my… talents." Peter could hear footsteps; the man was walking around him. "Years, in fact."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"Well, that's the thing. It didn't. It had _absolutely_ nothing to do with you. Until a few months ago."

"Why?" Peter grunted in confusion. His eyes had adjusted slightly to the dark, and he could make out a tall, shadowy figure to his right.

"If I told my whole story, we'd have nothing left to talk about later. We'll have plenty of time, Peter, I promise."

"They'll find me," he said indignantly.

"Who? The Avengers? _Tony Stark_?" The man said the name with so much venom, it actually surprised Peter. "They won't come. Not in time, anyway."

He couldn't see it, but Peter knew the man was smiling.

With a blast of his repulsors, Iron Man broke through the abandoned warehouse's wall. He held out his hands, expecting trouble, or a fight of some kind, but was met with silence. Tony scanned the room, eyes falling on a small table in the middle of it. Resting on top was a plain brown package with a note attached.

"FRIDAY, analysis."

"My sensors do not pick up any explosives or traps, boss." He nodded and stepped closer to the box.

"And this is where we tracked Pete's suit?"

"It is here, sir," was the mechanical reply.

Screw it, he thought and walked briskly to the brown box, plucking the note from it.

_Good try, Anthony. But I win this round. _The words unsettled him deeply, and he hurriedly ripped open the package. Inside the box was a suit… Spider-Man's suit.

"FRIDAY, it's a trap! This is a decoy, the kid's not here. We have to find him." He blasted off, bursting through the roof and back to the city.

As his eyes adjusted to the dark, Peter realized he was wearing white cotton pants, and no shirt. He was definitely handcuffed, but still couldn't break free. His mind was starting to panic. What would this man do to him? Would anyone come for him? Was he going to die?

A crash from up above, probably the floor above, Peter guessed. Quick footsteps, and a knife to his throat.

"Say one word," the tall man threatened. He didn't have to finish the sentence. Regardless of the sharp object pressing into his skin, Peter felt a surge of hope. Mr. Stark was here! Maybe he would save him! He heard a muffled voice, male, and an even more muffled female response. FRIDAY. His sensitive ears strained to hear what was happening. Even then, he only caught bits and pieces.

"-a trap! - decoy, the kid's- find him." He heard a blast and the last of his hope seemed to drip from his mind. Tony wasn't going to save him. He was at the mercy of a madman.

Tony was pacing in his office. He had checked what felt like the entirety of New York! Where was Peter? Who sent him that note? Was his kid hurt? Or worse?

"FRIDAY, have we checked Brooklyn?"

"Yes, boss. Twice." He let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed his temples. Pepper sat on the couch, along with some of the other Avengers. They all cared about Peter, in a way, and most of them had their heads in their hands.

"Crap," he stated, "what am I supposed to tell May?" As if on cue, his phone rang, May's contact popping up. He reluctantly pressed answer, bringing the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"Tony! I can't find Peter! I checked his room, I've texted him and called nearly a dozen times! Is he out patrolling? He never goes out this early! Please tell me you know where he is," she sputtered, panic evident in her shaky voice.

"May," he stated, "I was just about to call you."

"Oh no. No, no, no! What happened. Something's happened. Is he okay?"

"May," he said again, "I need you to calm down for a minute. Find a place to sit."

"Oh no," she sniffed, and through the phone he could hear tears. "Oh no." There was a pause. "I'm sitting now."

Tony sighed with exhaustion and worry. "Peter. I think he," he paused. "I think he's been kidnapped." His voice shook at the last word, reality setting in. Natasha shook her head, rubbing her face. May made a strangled noise, and then started to cry.

"Kidnapped? Why. Why? Oh not my Peter," she stuttered. Tony's phone beeped, indicating another call.

"Listen May. I have to go, but I promise to you that me and the team are doing _everything_ in our power to find him, and get him home to you. Pepper will keep you updated." With this, he hung up. He couldn't hear her cry anymore.

Steve started, "Tony-"

"NO! I don't need a lecture right now. A kid is missing! My kid is missing," he trailed off and remembered the other call. Too frazzled to look at the caller ID, he answered.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Stark, M-mr. Stark?" The voice that called to him was small and familiar.

"Peter! Pete, is that you?" Pepper stood, taking a step toward Tony. She motioned to the phone and Tony put it on speaker.. The other Avengers were staring and listening intently to what was said next. "Hey, you okay, Underoos? Talk to me kid."

"Please, Mr. Stark, you gotta-" he was cut off. The older man signaled to Natasha to start tracing the call.

"That's enough of that, little spider," a smooth voice spoke through the phone. "Children can be so talkative." Whoever was speaking drew out the word "so", effectively chilling Tony. "But, once you get a knife to their throat, they shut up." The voice, seemingly male, chuckled cruelly. Steve, Clint, and Bruce winced at this statement. Natasha furrowed her brow in concentration, tapping quickly on the keyboard in front of her.

"Enough," Tony growled, "Who are you? Why do you have Peter? Where are you keeping him?"

"So many questions, Anthony. They'll be answered in time; good things come to those that wait, you know. I wouldn't want to give that friend of yours enough time to track me down." Natasha flinched slightly, but kept working.

"But for now I'll answer one: I am the downfall of everything you have built, everything you love, everything you hold close to you. Goodbye, Anthony." The phone clicked, ending the call.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey all! Thanks to everyone who favorited and followed my story! I'm currently really excited about this idea, and have a lot of time on my hands, so expect updates relatively often (until school starts). **

**This chapter contains some mild torture and a significant amount of agnst, so be warned!**

**As always, if you guys could refrain from using swear words in the reviews, that would be great (I totally respect your language and how you speak, so if you don't want to, that's fine, it just makes me uncomfortable). **

**ANNNNy-who, I spent a lot of hours writing and reviewing this chapter, so I hope you like it. ;) I love you all and enjoy!**

It had been two days. _Two days. _Why couldn't they find him? They had checked everywhere! Manhattan all the way to Yonkers, and turned up zilch. Tony didn't want to imagine what Peter was going through. What if he was already-

No. He couldn't start thinking like that. He needed to be strong. "Tony." A firm voice called him out of his thoughts. Steve stood in the doorway of Tony's office, running a hand through his blond hair. "You're gonna," he almost sounded in pain. "You're gonna want to see this." Tony rushed to the doorway and followed Cap into the living space. A video was projected onto a wall and the moment he saw it, Tony froze.

Peter. It was Peter. He was strapped to a rusty metal chair; he had no shirt or shoes on. Only white pants adorned his small frame. A long gash ran from his shoulder to his wrist, slowly oozing blood. Blood was also dried on a spot just under his hairline, and bruises were speckled along his face and chest. His head was dropped to his chest, and his hair was dripping water.

Clint paced behind the couch, watching the screen closely. Natasha was standing in the corner, hand on her gun and fury etched into her features. Steve stood behind Tony, and grunted angirly. Tony felt his hand close into a fist tightly. Whoever had done this was going to pay.

"The itsy bitsy spider ran up the water spout," a voice sang, and a figure stepped into view. He was tall and wearing a white hockey mask to cover his features. He twirled a knife in his right hand and was circling the chair Peter was in. The man grabbed the boy's hair in between his fingers and pulled his head up to look at the camera.

Peter's eyes were half open and rolled to the back of his head, seemingly unconscious. A pit of anger was forming in the bottom of Tony's stomach. "FRIDAY, where's this coming from?" The man's voice came out as a snarl.

"I don't know boss, but it appears to be live footage," she replied, "my systems are working to track down the source."

"Down came the rain," the man had stepped out of view. Suddenly, water was thrown at Peter, effectively waking him up and soaking him. The boy gasped for breath and his eyes grew wide with fear. He started to shiver and silent tears started to run down his pale face. "And washed the spider out." The man walked into sight again; he was still twirling his knife. "Out came the sun," he stopped behind Pete's left shoulder, the uninjured one. "And dried up all the rain," with this he placed the tip of his knife at Peter's wrist. He dragged it up slowly and sang, "And the itsy bitsy spider went up the spout again." The small child cried out in pain, his face pulling into a tight grimace.

"Please," Peter gasped, "Please stop."

"Oh no," said the man, standing straight up. He pulled a cloth from his pocket and wiped the blood off of his knife. "How can I stop when we've only just begun?" He chuckled. "Here's a little clue, Anthony: You've been close. So close, in fact, I watched the child's eyes fill with hope. What a shame he had to be… disappointed?" The man laughed again and the camera cut to black.

There was a woosh as Nat threw a knife at the screen. It hit it's mark with a loud crack. She growled, "What kinda creep does that to a kid?"

Tony was starting to shake with anger. "If I ever get my hands on that son of a-"

"Stark." Steve placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "We have to keep our heads clear. For Peter." Tony started to respond but was cut off by the AI.

"Sir," FRIDAY's voice filled the room, "Incoming photo from the same source. Would you like me to display it?"

"Yes," he mumbled gruffly. A photo popped up onto one of the screens on the wall. It was a picture of a man and his family. He had brown skin and curly hair, and in the picture he was grinning widely and had a boy under one arm, a woman under another. They were all smiling. At the bottom of the picture, a sentence was scrawled.

"If you know who I am, you'll know where I am," someone read. Tony jumped at the voice; he hadn't realized Bucky was in the room, and yet, there he was. The sergeant had a peculiar look on his face, like a mix between anger and concern. A look like he cared. The older man didn't realize that Peter and Bucky had even met. He realized Bucky was twirling a small object in his left hand. It looked like… a magnet? Whatever. Tony had more pressing matters.

'"FRIDAY, save that photo and find out who they are. And please hurry."

"On it, boss." With this, Tony collapsed on the couch, head in his hands. "I was close. I was close to him," his voice cracked. "He said I was close."

"Tony… you can't blame yourself. This guy's a psychopath," Nat said, shaking her head.

"I was so close…"

They had nothing. No clues, no leads. Only an old picture of a random family. It felt like the Universe was whispering, 'You can't save him.'

Quietly, he mumbled, "Watch me do it anyway."

Peter could hardly move. His shoulders and arms burned with hot pain, and his head felt like a knife was being jabbed into it. There was a small light bulb hanging above him. Was that there when he first got here? Peter wasn't sure. He had lost track of time. How many hours or days or weeks he had been in this room. It felt like years. Every creak of the wood, or tap of a rock he would jump and whimper, expecting the man to return.

After flinching at a small creak, he whispered to himself, "Come on Peter. Pull yourself together… You're Spider-man. You should be able to handle this. You're Spider-man…" he repeated the phrase like a mantra. It was comforting and gave him some extra courage. He started pulling at the handcuffs with newfound strength.

"Now now, _Spider-man_," the man mocked from a dark corner. "Let's not test the limits."

"And why not?" Peter rasped, riding the bit of courage he felt, "Why shouldn't I try to escape?"

"Oh, Mr. Parker. You have quite a bit to lose. That wonderful aunt of yours… what was her name? Mary? Mia? Ah. _May." _Peter's eyes widened in shock and fear. "She's gone hysterical, you know. Can't imagine who would want to hurt her _precious nephew._" He scoffed. "I have people everywhere, Spider. _Everywhere._ One phone call and she's dead. Within the minute. So go ahead, escape. But you'll have no one to run back to."

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"I suppose I could tell you, considering you'll be dead soon." The man stepped into the light, the hockey mask still on. "But I don't think I will. You're stalling. And I have work to do, experiments to do, arrogant _heroes_ to torment. I'll be back soon, little spider, and we can finish what we started."

Unknown to Peter, Ibrahim was smirking under his mask. He turned and walked back into the darkness. The only reason he had chosen Peter was because he was accessible. Tony cared for very few; Pepper was under 24/7 protection, Happy was the literal head of security, and he could never take one of the other Avengers as easily. But Peter. The child lived in a run down old _apartment_ building! It was easy to figure out he was Spider-Man, and even easier to kidnap him. It was obvious this was the way to get to Stark, but now he just had to wait. But he was used to waiting.

But he was also used to passing the time. Ibrahim smiled and grabbed his tool kit from a small table above the containment room. Back to the Spider, he supposed. He had nothing better to do for now. Good thing he had soundproofed the room. Laughing, the large man walked to the trapdoor, climbed halfway down the ladder, replaced the mat covering it, and shut the small door again. It was time for some fun.

"Mahmod Abboud," called FRIDAY cutting the conversation the Avengers were having short. They were seated around a table in the briefing room, sharing their theories about the photo.

"What?" Tony questioned.

"The picture, boss. The older man is Mahmod Abboud, aged 44; the woman is Sara Abboud, aged 38; and the boy is Ibrahim Abboud, aged 17. The picture dates back to January of 1999 in Iraq."

"Okay," said Bucky, squinting in confusion, "And how are they relevant?" The others nodded, wondering the same thing.

"Well," started the female AI, "In April of 2000, Stark missiles were launched into Iraq. The same area that this family lived. Sara and Mahmod, the parents, were killed." Tony's mouth dropped open. "The boy, Ibrahim, joined the Iraqi National Intelligence Service for 3 years in Directorate 14 (secret operations), served 5 years in the Iraqi army and then disappeared in 2008. According to my resources, he is still MIA."

Silence filled the room. Everyone was looking at Tony.

"2008? That's the same year you became Iron Man," said Bruce quietly.

"That's definitely our guy," Steve stated. "We know who he is now. We have the upper hand."

"Not necessarily," Bruce said, "he sent us that picture, which means he wanted us to find out his identity. And we still don't know where he's keeping Peter."

"The picture said 'If you know who I am, you'll know where I am'. So now we just have to figure out how this guy thinks. We need to gather everything on Ibrahim Abboud." This statement came from Natasha, who was cleaning one of her guns.

Pepper, who was leaning against the wall, commanded, "FRIDAY. I want everything on this guy. And I mean everything. Nat can help hack into any government systems." Natasha nodded and stood, walking out of the door. She was followed by Pepper and the rest of the Avengers. Steve lingered a moment longer, glancing at Tony, who was still sitting at the table. After a moment, he left, shutting the door and drowning the room in silence.

FRIDAY's voice echoed in Tony's mind. _Stark missiles were launched into Iraq. _

So it really was his fault. As much as his friends had tried to convince him otherwise, this was all his fault. But how was he supposed to know where the American government was launching the missiles? How was he supposed to know that it had killed innocent people? That it had created a monster who was ruining his life?

Still. He had created those missiles. Those plans came from his brain and _his_ company. A 15-year-old was being tortured, and it was all his fault. Despite himself, Tony felt tears prick his eyes.

It was all his fault.

**A/N: Wow, that chapter was kind of intense. Don't worry, my lovelies, I'm planning for the next chapter to be filled with a lot of fluff. I'm hoping to give some tidbits of Peter's relationships with the other Avengers. See you next time!**

**-katilange**


	4. Chapter 4

Chap 4

**A/N: Hello again! Welcome back to my lair of angst and sadness! **

**Heh. I thought this chapter would be fluffy, but it's kinda sad :(. Sorry, friends, I just can't help myself. **

**As always, if you guys could refrain from using swear words in the reviews, that would be great (I totally respect your language and how you speak, so if you don't want to, that's fine, it just makes me uncomfortable). **

**Any-who, love you guys and enjoy the chapter! ;)**

"Dad! Dad!" Cassie scrambled toward her father, grabbing his hand. She pulled him towards the TV room.

"Woah woah woah! Where we goin' Cas?" He chuckled and let her drag him through his Ex-wife's small home.

"Your friend is on TV," she said. Scott narrowed his eyes in confusion. He wondered which of his 'friends' saved New York this time. As they entered the room, the loud noises of the Evening News assaulted his ears.

"Why were you watching the news, Cassie?" He ruffled her hair and laughed. She remained solemn, staring at the television with fervency.

"This just in," the anchor reported, "15 year old Midtown High student, Peter Parker, is still missing." The color drained from Scott's face. His heart felt like it was beating ten times louder. "Detectives suspect that the young student's disappearance is connected to his internship with Stark Enterprises. Tony Stark has yet to make a statement, and all of New York awaits his response. More on this later. Over to you John." Scott lowered himself to the couch, eyes wide. The rest of the news forecast faded into the background.

"Cassie, I have to go. Tell your mom it's hero stuff." He patted her on the head and gently nudged her toward the door.

Thoughts consumed him as he drove to the Tower. Peter was missing. _Missing._ Why hadn't Steve called him? He rubbed his face. Oh no… his poor aunt. Peter was _missing_.

"_So if you're Ant-Man, does that mean you can talk to ants?" Peter's large brown eyes stared at Scott from across the couch. _

_He snorted. "Sort of! I use this little piece of technology that lets me tell the ants what to do, but I can't actually speak to them," Scott said, pointing to his earpiece. "What about you? Do you talk to spiders?" Peter's shoulders slumped and he sighed, looking disappointed in himself._

"_No… but I can stick to stuff! Watch!" All of a sudden, he stood, crouched, and jumped. Shocked, Scott watched as he not only jumped ridiculously high, but his hand _stuck _to the ceiling. The older man sprung up in excitement._

"_Woah! That's insane! What else can you stick to?" _

"_I…" He dropped down. "I haven't really tried it on anything other than walls or ceilings…" There was a moment of silence that was broken when the pair looked directly at each other._

"_Dude," Scott said, "We _have _to test this."_

_And so the shenanigans began. They started with simple stuff; wood, glass, metal, sheet rock. But quickly they started to test everything else. Fridges, clothing, Dum-E. They even webbed a leather chair to the wall to see if Peter would stick to it. After a few hours, they both collapsed on the floor, laughing until they cried. _

"_Wait, wait, wait. Scott. We forgot about one thing."_

"_And what is that," he laughed._

"Non-stick pans_!" _

Bucky stepped out of the shower, drying his shoulder-length hair with a towel. His hair was already curling slightly at the ends and dripped onto his clothes as he dressed. Heading to his designated room in the tower, he squeezed the small magnet tightly. Its pointed edges dug into his skin. Bucky sat on his bed and stared at the red object. Why did it have to be Peter?

_The silence in the room was beginning to be awkward. It was only him and Peter in the large, empty kitchen. The kid was quietly doing homework at the granite counter, and occasionally, he glanced up at Bucky. The soldier was at the stove, making ramen noodles. His smooth brown hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and he wore a white apron that said, 'kiss the cook'._

"_So Mr. White Wolf Winter Soldier, or whatever you want to be called, my name's Parker Peter…uh Peter Parker," he laughed nervously. His pencil tapped furiously on the countertop._

"_Call me Bucky, kid."_

"_O-oh yeah. Cool." There was another uncomfortable pause. "Do magnets stick to it?"_

"_What?"_

"_Do magnets…" he pointed to Bucky's metal arm, "Stick to it?" _

_For the first time in a long time, Bucky started to laugh loudly. "What?" Peter stared at him. "What's so funny?"_

"_It's just," he chuckled, "That's not the question people normally ask."_

"_Well, what _do _they ask?"_

_The man sighed. "Usually if I remember what I did as The Winter Soldier, or if I'm still a 'bad guy'," he made quotes with his fingers. _

"_Why do people ask that? I know you're not a bad guy! It's Hydra's fault you-" the young boy stopped short. "Sorry. I'm sure you don't care what I have to say." Bucky just stared at him in confused wonder._

_He hadn't paid much attention when he was first introduced to Peter, because he had never really been good with kids. The boy had gotten along with Bruce, Clint, Steve, and even Natasha almost immediately. But the air between the Super Soldier and Peter had always been awkward, at best. And here this kid he barely knew was, sitting at the counter, and defending him._

"_You know, kid, I haven't ever tried sticking magnets to it."_

From then on, every time Peter went somewhere, he would buy a magnet to bring back for Bucky. They'd see if it stuck (and most of them did), then Bucky would place them in a drawer in his bedside table for safekeeping. The most recent magnet was a red star from a small gift shop in Brooklyn.

"_Look, Bucky! This one looks like the one on your arm! Aaaaaand it's from Brooklyn!"_

Bucky stuck the small star to his arm, placing his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands.

"It sticks, kid. It sticks."

Natasha stood with her back to the cool cement wall, unloading and reloading her gun mechanically. She stared at the blueprints scattered on a table in front of her, lost in thought.

_Natasha walked into Tony's lab, expecting to see him hunched over his latest project, or testing his latest Mark. The billionaire had a habit of getting caught up in his work. Often she would find him passed out in an office chair, surrounded by empty coffee cups and work tools._

_Instead, when she entered, what she saw was a teenager with light brown, slightly curly hair sitting with his legs crossed and his back to the door. He was building something… Legos? She wasn't sure. Out of habit, Nat's hand went to her gun._

"_Hah! Ned's gonna freak!" The boy pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of whatever he was building. Nat took a cautious step forward. The kid seemed to hear this and he perked up, starting to turn around. "Wow Mr. Stark, you were pretty quiet! I can usually tell when you walk-" he trailed off when he saw who it was, but finished his sentence, "in." _

"_Who are you?" She questioned, stepping closer. She took her hand off of her gun (the child seemed harmless), but still kept a defensive position. _

"_Oh my gosh," he stuttered, "you're- you're the Black Widow."_

_She sighed, expecting a cry of fear and 'are you gonna kill me?' to come next. Instead, the teen stood quickly and bounced a little on his feet, face pulling into a wide grin._

"_You were like my favorite superhero when I was a kid! Well, next to Iron Man," he paused. "But man! The way you were like- HUH! And the bad guys were like- hugggghhh," he made gestures with his fists, "And all with your bare hands! Man, it is so cool to meet you. I'm Peter!" He smiled and held his hand out. "Parker," he added._

"_I'm Natasha. You can call me Nat." She shook his hand briefly, a small smile on her lips. No one was ever this excited to meet an assassin. "So. Why are you here? In the lab, I mean."_

"_Oh! I intern for Mr. Stark. At first it started out fake because of, you know," he quirked his head a little, "but then he let me start to actually work on some projects." Peter sighed happily. Natasha raised an eyebrow at him. "What's 'you know'?" _

"_Oh crap! I thought Mr. Stark already told you. Danggit, he's gonna kill me!"_

"_Told me what?"_

"_Ah, screw it," he huffed. "Spider-man, you know him?"_

"_Tony has brought him up a couple of times."_

"_That's me. Tada!" Peter stuck his hands out and wiggled them. Needless to say, Nat was shocked. Peter seemed to be only 16, at most._

"_That's you? Wow, маленький паук, I'm impressed." _

_Peter's mouth formed an O. "Wow! Was that Russian? What does it mean?"_

_She laughed. "It means '_little spider'_." He ran up to her and put his small hands on her shoulders. _

"_Can you please teach me? I already know Spanish, and another language would be _so _cool!" _

"_If you like," she said, the corners of her mouth tilting up again. No one was this excited to learn Russian, either. "Давай then, Peter. Let's sit down."_

"_Oh man! Wait til I tell Ned that Black Widow is teaching me Russian! He's gonna lose his mind!"_

_Bang. _The magazine she was loading clattered to the floor. She picked it up and shoved it into her gun again, walking to the door.

"Я иду, маленький паук," she whispered, slamming the door behind her.

**A/N: Just as an aside, if Scott and Bucky's little tidbits seemed familiar, I pulled some Ideas off of Tumblr, and just made them into longer pieces. If any of y'all know who came up with them, let me know and I will give credit! (haha I forgot what their usernames were, sorry)**

**Thank you to all those who have followed and favorited so far! Love you guys! Also thanks to those who have visited! I appreciate you as well! **

**As always, leave a review and see you next time!**

**-katilange**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hello! Welcome back ;)**

**Disclaimer: I mean no discrimination or offense toward any race, religion, or nationality. I purely chose what worked best with my timeline/story. Also, I totally made up a scenario about a prisoner of war because I had to make the story work, so please don't take any offense (that wasn't my intention).**

**As always, if you guys could refrain from using swear words in the reviews, that would be great (I totally respect your language and how you speak, so if you don't want to, that's fine, I'm just personally not a fan).**

**Any-who, thanks for everyone who favorited and followed (love you). Make sure to leave a review, and enjoy the chapter!**

"So what do we know?" Tony leaned forward, facing the other Avengers in the briefing room. Scott had recently joined the group. He showed up at the tower dead-set on helping the team find Peter. Another person the kid had made friends with that Tony didn't know about. He'd have to check up on that.

Natahsa stood, pointing a gloved finger at a board where Ibrahim's life was outlined "This man, Ibriham Abboud, was trained extensively in self-defense and military tactics. He was also trained as a spy and in his time with the Iraq Secret Service, he taught over 100 men on how to withhold information from enemy forces if captured," Nat said. "We also know that Tony was close to where he was keeping Peter."

"So where would a man who was a professional at evading capture hide?" Silence followed Steve's statement. A sense of defeat flowed into the room, disheartening the team. None of them knew the answer.

"He would hide where he knew we wouldn't look! That's it!" Bruce jumped up excitedly. Everyone turned to him.

"What? What do you mean," Scott questioned.

"Do you remember back in 2005? During the Iraq war, Iraqi extremists kidnapped a prominent political figure and was keeping him hostage in an unknown location. US troops were tasked with tracking him down. The first warehouse they looked was abandoned. Empty. After knocking down almost 10 other buildings, all of which had intensive security, they checked the first building again. They discovered a hidden door, and in it, they found the POW. They hadn't thought to double check where they already looked! So what I'm saying is, Peter could be in the first place we checked!" Bruce took a deep breath and sat down. "Tony, where did you look first?"

Tony was frozen with shock for a moment, along with the rest of the group. He shook his head to refocus and tried to remember. "I- I think it was his apartment." Dr. Banner's shoulder sagged with disappointment. He thought he had something.

"There's no way he would keep Peter there." Everyone sighed, hope once again draining from their minds.

"If I may interject, boss," FRIDAY said, "I recall we technically checked that abandoned warehouse first. When Mr. Parker was first captured."

"Oh that's right… and it was," Tony's eyes widened. "It was empty." Everyone jumped up as they realized what this meant. "Grab your gear, I'll send you the location. Meet me there."

Steve stopped the man at the door. "Tony. Don't go in without backup, ok? We need to think about this or Peter could get hurt." He stared sincerely into Tony's eyes. The man groaned with annoyance.

"All right, fine. See you there." He pushed past Steve and all but ran to his lab to put on his suit.

"I'm comin' kid. Just a little longer."

Peter didn't know where he was, just that he liked it here. There was darkness all around him, but it was a nice darkness, like a warm blanket. And it was quiet. Peaceful. Different from where he had been, where the darkness was mean. Harsh. Unforgiving.

He just wanted to sleep. He was so tired. The darkness threatened to wrap him up and never let go. And Peter wanted to let it. He wanted to stop feeling the pain, stop aching to see May or Mr. Stark again. He just wanted to let go; drift away and never come back.

Suddenly, he was brought out of his stupor with a splash. Ice cold water dripped down his face and brought goosebumps with it. Being awake brought back the pain. A thousand needles pricked up and down his skin, all over his sore body. But something else was happening. Something new. He felt a sharp sting in his neck, almost as if someone was giving him a shot.

Awake now, his tried to focus on something. His eyes would only open half-way, and what he did see was blurred. All he could make out was a figure, but he knew who it was. The Man pressed something cool and hard to his temple, and tied a rough cloth around his mouth. It tasted gross, like he was licking the bottom of a dumpster.

"They're coming for you," he said in a sing-song voice and laughed. "Finally."

With a crash, the entirety of the Avengers bust into the warehouse, weapons drawn. Bruce stood behind the group, on standby if Peter needed medical attention.

"FRIDAY, scan for heat signatures."

"I detect two people below us, boss."

"They're in a basement of some sort," Tony called to the rest of the team. "Search everywhere for a hidden door! We need to find him!"

"Over here," Nat called, kicking a rug away to reveal a trapdoor. They all gathered around and Clint drew back his bow, pointing it at the door. Nat raised her gun as well, and held up 3 fingers, mouthing, "Three, two, one." She nodded once and ripped open the trap door; they all dropped into the room, except Bruce, who stayed on the top level. "Good luck," he whispered as the last of his teammates disappeared into darkness.

When Tony saw Peter, it took everything in him not to burn the whole place to the ground. Had it not been for the gun against the kid's head, he would've blown Abboud's smug face off. The boy's eyes were half open, so he was at least conscious; his mouth was gagged with a dirty rag. But that wasn't the problem.

Peter's hair was bloody and matted in places, and hundreds of cuts lined his chest. His left eye was swollen shut and an ugly purple color. The long gashes that ran from his shoulders to his wrists were now an angry red; Tony assumed they had gotten infected. Both his feet and a few of his fingers were twisted at strange angles and had swelled.

His blood boiled at the sight of the kid, _his _kid, tied to that chair.

"It's so good to finally meet you in person, Anthony. And you brought your friends! I would've dressed up if I knew the _Avengers_ were coming!" Ibrahim smiled at the group, cocking his head to the side.

"You're going to pay for what you did," Tony spat. Angry grunts of agreement came from his friends.

"No, I don't think I am," he smirked. "Because, you see, I have the upper hand."

"How so? We've got you outnumbered," Nat pointed out.

"But I have something you don't! I have Peter," he gestured to the gun that was against the boy's head. "One shot at me, and _Spider-Man_ dies." He sighed in mock sadness. "And it would be such a shame! He's only 15… oh, and tell your little Ant friend that if I go down, the kid goes down. Because despite what you think, you haven't got me outnumbered." A small red dot appeared in the center of Peter's forehead and another in the middle of his chest.

"Scott, back off," called Steve. Scott grew to his normal size and stood behind Tony, his eyebrows scrunched in concern and anger. He cursed himself, wondering what had given him away.

Ibrahim dropped his arm. "Wow, that was getting exhausting." He stretched his wrist casually.

"Enough of this crap," Tony growled. "What do you want?"

"That's a complicated question," Abboud waved the hand holding his gun around, finally resting his chin on top of it. "You know Anthony, I had a good childhood. I'm not saying it was rainbows and puppies all the time, but I was happy."

"I asked what you wanted, not your life story."

"Well, the short answer is," his face darkened. "I want my parents back. But since I can't have that, this is the next best thing!" He faced changed, summoning back the unnerving smile. "I could kill him you know," he whispered. "Right now. One wave of my hand and he'd be dead before you could even scream. Lucky for you, I have other plans for the child." That statement thoroughly creeped out the team, but no one said a word; they feared if they did, Peter would be hurt.

¨I think I am going to leave now. And if _any _of you try and apprehend me before I am out of this building," he leaned forward, ¨Well, you know what will happen." The man crouched down and whispered something into Peter's ear. He stood up straight and walked to the ladder below the trapdoor. As he climbed he looked over his shoulder at the Avengers. "Goodbye, Earth's _Mightiest _Heroes."

There was a moment of silence while they waited for the red lights to disappear. Once they did, Tony stepped from his suit and rushed forward. He knelt in front of Peter and held his face in his hands, ripping the gag off. "Hey kid, can you hear me? It's me. It's Tony. Come on Peter, talk to me." The child was unresponsive, and his head fell forward. "He passed out. Tell Bruce to meet us at the compound. I've got to get him out of here." Tony climbed into his suit, untied Peter and grabbed him gently, flying out of the door and towards the tower.

Scott's shoulders sagged in relief. "Thank goodness he's safe." The teammates all nodded in unison.

"Now that Peter's safe, let's catch that monster, and beat him so hard into the dirt he tastes mud for the next year," Clint said, strapping his wrist guard on.

"Now that," Steve said, "Is something I can do."

**A/N: Reviews:**

**Annemarie2430: Omg thanks ;) Im planning on continuing. **

**Belbelanne: Yeah, I saw the idea of Peter and Scott being friends on Tumblr and I loved it. :)**

**See y'all next time!**

**-katilange**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chap 6**

**A/N: This chapter is short, and if it seems choppy or bad, it's because I have spent hours on this and the words just weren't coming right. I hope you enjoy what I do have, though!**

**Thanks to everyone who favorited or followed! Love ya! ;)**

**As always, if you guys could refrain from using swear words in the reviews, that would be great (I totally respect your language and how you speak, so if you don't want to, that's fine, it just makes me uncomfortable).**

**Any-who, enjoy it and see you guys next time!**

The slow beep of the heart monitor was starting to drive Tony insane. It was constant, and seemed unending. But, he reminded himself, it was proof that Peter was ok. That he was alive, and laying right in front of him. He could deal with insanity if it meant Peter was next to him.

He was sitting in Peter's room along with May. After crying for a few minutes, she had drifted off in her chair next to her nephew, and her head was leaning against the side of the bed. Her small hand clutched his, even as they slept. Tony watched his wrapped fingers twitch in hers.

There were two large casts on Peters feet and leg, and a splint on his fingers. His head was wrapped in white cloth, tufts of brown hair sticking out.

"_Both of his ankles are broken, and his right knee was dislocated badly. Eight of his fingers were also dislocated. Most of the cuts have healed already, but the ones on his arms and some on his chest will need more time. There was internal bleeding in his stomach, but fortunately we stopped it." The doctor stopped, taking a breath. "What we're really concerned about is his head injuries. He was beaten badly. We managed to reduce the swelling in his brain, but there's no telling when he'll wake up. All we can do now is wait."_

The doctors voice echoed in Tony's head. He rubbed his face, trying to stop the prick of tears in his eyes. "Dang it, kid. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Peter." Tony grabbed Peters other hand and gently squeezed it, carefully avoiding his wrapped fingers.

May seemed to hear Tony's voice, and woke with a start.

"What's happening? Is he awake?" she asked, frantic.

Almost painfully, Tony shook his head. "I'm sorry May, he isn't." He looked at the dark bags under her eyes, which were also red and puffy. "Why don't you head to one of the guest rooms. You need some sleep."

"But he-" she started.

"No." Tony said firmly. "It'll be best for you and for Peter if you get some rest. I'll be here with him." After a few moments, May finally stood up. She leaned forward, kissed Peter on the head, and left the room slowly.

Tony finally released, letting slow, quiet tears run down his face. He clutched Peters hand tighter. _Wake up, kid. Please just wake up._

Peter felt like he was floating in soup. It was like something heavy was holding him from all sides, protecting him from reality.

Everything he heard was far away, so far that he couldn't tell what was happening. He heard voices; familiar voices. Who was talking? Why couldn't they talk any louder? He heard crying, too. Who was crying? He wanted to open his eyes and comfort them, but his brain wouldn't let him wake up.

He strained to remember what had happened. Pain on his neck. Cold on his head. Crashes. Yelling. He remembered someone saying, "You're going to pay for what you did." What had he done? Peter did not recall ever doing anything worth paying for.

A voice. _The _voice. He said something. What did he say?

"_Well see each other again soon, Spider-man."_

_No. _No. No no no. Peter didn't want to see him again. He didn't want to go with that man. No. No. His breathing was becoming rapid. No. Not again. He wanted to stay floating and calm and safe. No. Please.

"_Well see each other again soon, Spider-man."_

The thick blanket around him fell away, and Peter woke with a start, starting to cry hysterically. "I don't want to go back! Don't let me go back! I don't want to go back!" Peter didn't know where he was, and everything hurt. He couldn't breathe. His hands reached out for something, but all he felt was wires and tubes.

Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped around him. "Peter. Calm down. It's ok. You're safe."

"He told me he would see me soon! I don't want to go back, Mr. Stark, don't let him take me... I don't want to go…" Peter's small hands gripped the back of Tony's suit tightly. The older man held him close as he cried.

"Don't worry, kid. I won't let that happen. I promise. It's not going to happen again." It literally broke his heart that such an innocent, sweet kid was going through all of this crap. It made him want to punch something. Or blow up something. Or both.

Just as quickly as it had sped up, Peter's breath started to slow as he fell asleep again. His tight grip began to relax. "Would you like me to contact May?" FRIDAY asked. Tony shook his head. "No need. He's asleep again, so we should just let her rest." He gently laid Peter back down in the bed, adjusting the pillows behind the child's head and pulling the blanket back up.

"I remember you telling me that you wouldn't be a good Father." Tony didn't remember Natasha walking in, but it didn't surprise him that she came in unnoticed. He looked up at her, and she was smirking at him. He scoffed and sat back in his seat.

"Whatever. Did you guys find him?"

"No," she said. "But we will." Her gaze was one of intense determination.

"I know. But until then, at least one of us needs to stay with him. At all times. We cannot let anything happen again."

"Of course. I'll let the others know." She nodded, almost to herself. "I'm sure they'll agree. I'll let you know." She smiled down at Peter and left the room, black heels clicking on the white tile.

**A/N: Hey guys! I decided to end this chapter here because I literally cannot write. I have such bad writer's block. But anyway, I am going on vacation tomorrow, so don't expect an update for a couple of days.**

**Love you guys, and leave a review! ;)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chap 7**

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry it's been a while. I just got back from vacation, and if you care, it was really nice. I didnʼt write at all (haha whoops), but Iʼm back at it! **

**Also, school started today, so uploads might be a little more sporadic. I'll definitely try and update as much as I can. This chapter is also kinda short, for the same reasons.**

**As always, if you guys could refrain from using swear words in the reviews, that would be great (I totally respect your language and how you speak, so if you don't want to, that's fine, it just makes me uncomfortable).**

**Any-who! Enjoy the chapter!**

Peter heard voices from far off. His eyes were heavy, but he strained to wake up. He wanted to hear them. Suddenly, the voices became closer, and he could make out what they were saying.

"-didn't find anything. He just… vanished," a familiar voice was saying.

"That isn't possible! He had to have gone somewhere! No one disappears." Peter knew that voice instantly.

"Mr. Stark?" His voice came out quiet and hoarse. His eyes slowly cracked open, and he flinched at the light. "Is- Is that you?" Peter felt a strong hand on his shoulder. He squinted to see who it was, but nothing seemed to focus.

"Hey, Pete," Mr. Stark said softly.

"I can't see… anything," he croaked.

"Give it a minute, kid. Let your eyes adjust." The small child groaned and tried to move his arm up to his face. A small hand gently pushed it back down.

"Peter, sweetie, try not to move."

"May?" How many people were here?

Finally, with enormous effort, his eyes opened all the way, revealing Aunt May's face leaning over him. She looked tired. Like, really tired.

"Hi, baby," May placed her hand on his face and stroked his cheek with her thumb. "It's so good to see you." A tear that was running down her face dropped onto Peter's nose.

"What's… wrong May? Why… why are you crying? What... happened?" May drew back her fingers and put her hand to her mouth, gasping softly. The tears began to fall more freely. When Peter saw this, he started to panic slightly, frantically scanning the room. His eyes landed on Tony.

"Where am I? Mr. Stark? What happened? Why am I in casts?"

"Peter. Calm down," he said. "What do you remember?" The man's eyebrows furrowed in concern. In all honesty, all he remembered was the soft darkness that had enveloped him.

"I-I… last I remember is-" Memories spilled into his mind in a rush.

Tony watched as Peter's small frame started to shake, and tears began to fall from his large, brown eyes. Acting quickly, the older man leaned forward and put his other hand on Peter's arm. He blood practically boiled with anger, but he was careful to keep it to himself, face masked with calm sincerity.

"Hey, Underoos. It's gonna be ok. You're safe now," he looked earnestly into the kid's eyes. "We got at least one of the team watching you 24/7. Hear me? You're safe." Peter took deep breaths, gulping in air like it was water.

"Ok," he gasped, shaking his head a little. "Ok…" The only reason he was calming down was because he trusted the Avengers with his life. They had saved him. Next to that, Peter felt that they were some of the nicest, strongest, most sincere people he had ever met. If they were watching him 24/7, he would be fine. At least, that's what he kept telling himself.

From the corner a voice called, "It's gonna be fine, Peter. We'll find him." Tony had forgotten that Natasha was in the room. She stepped forward gracefully and put a comforting hand on the child's casted leg. "I promise." The statement was followed by a firm nod of her head. He had never seen her so compassionate...

Peter managed a weak smile and said, "And whoever said Black Widow was a bad guy?" Nat, Tony and May chuckled lightly. Peter even laughed a little.

His small laugh turned into a wet cough. Soon he was coughing so hard he could hardly breathe. Putting a hand to his mouth, he was shocked when he felt something warm and damp. He looked at his fingers. They were covered in crimson blood, dripping onto the white sheets. Despite the blood, he couldn't stop coughing.

"Peter?!" Tony said anxiously. "What's wrong? What's happening?!" May reached up to touch her nephew's forehead.

"He's burning up…" she said quietly. Peter's skin was turning a sickly pale, and though he had finally stopped coughing, his eyes were closed and his face was pulled in a grimace. May looked fearfully at Tony. "What's going on?"

Tony stood and pointed at the woman. "Go get a doctor, or Bruce, or something!" She nodded and ran from the room. As she left, Steve entered.

"Tony… Nat," he said angrily. "You're gonna want to see this." Tony glanced at Steve and then whispered to Peter, "I'll be right back. Keep your cool, kiddo." He pulled something out of his pocket and rested it on the bedside table. Webslingers. With that, he and the woman followed Steve out of the room.

It took everything in him to leave the Kid's side.

Peter felt hot. Very hot. But also cold. He was hot inside, but his skin was cold and clammy. His chest hurt, like an elephant was sitting on him. With some effort, he peeked open his eyes to see what Mr. Stark had left on the table. Despite the situation, he smiled softly. His eyes slipped shut again, and he fought to stay awake.

He heard the door open and footsteps walked to his side. For some reason, his spidey senses tripped, sending a chill down his spine.

"Mr. Stark?" His eyes burned, but he tried to open them wide enough to see.

"Oh Peter." Sick fear crept into the child's stomach. "Wrong again." Ibrahim smiled and sat down on the bed, pulling a gun from his pocket and placing the silver barrel to Peter's chest.

**A/N: Hahaha! We love a good cliff-hanger! The next chapter will be out within the next couple of days, depending on school and work and stuff.**

**Love you and see you next time!**

**Reviews:**

**Grey32: Thanks so much! I did have fun ;). You are so sweet, I hope you keep reading!**

**-katilange**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hey guys! So haha I know I said it'd be a little bit, but I stole the computer and wrote for like four hours (and yet I feel like it's still a short chapter). I revised this chapter a lot, and I really tried to make it the best it can be.**

**Also I typed this very slow because I didn't want to reopen my cut. I'm basically **_**so**_** committed. (Sarcasm) What really happened is I had so many ideas that I couldn't **_**not**_ **write. **

**As always, if you guys could refrain from using swear words in the reviews, that would be great (I totally respect your language and how you speak, so if you don't want to, that's fine, it just makes me uncomfortable).**

**Any-who, enjoy the chapter!**

May was breathing hard. She had just sprinted to the lab, looking for Bruce. Or anyone, really. To her dismay, the large workplace was empty, and she reasoned to run back to Peter's room and ask Tony where she should look. A stitch in her side forced her to slow to a walk. _No_. Hard determination drove her to keep running.

Actually, it wasn't determination that drove her forward, she decided... it was love. She loved Peter more than anything. He was her entire world, and May was not about to let that world come crashing down on her. She would not lose anyone else.

The combined pounding of her feet on the floor and her heart in her chest sounded like gunshots. "Hey!" Turning to her right, she discovered that Mr. Barnes was standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall. His shoulder-length hair was pulled into a small bun. "What's wrong?"

She only met Mr. Barnes once, but it was hard to forget him. Not only did he have a metal arm, but his eyes resonated deep pain, anger and a mild loneliness. It wasn't easy to forget eyes that were rarely alight with laughter. May felt a blanket of sadness cloud her troubled mind. Peter's eyes always sparkled with joy; it was one of the things she loved most about him.

She stopped before the tall man, bending forward and panting like she had just run a marathon. "It's- it's Peter," she gasped. "Something's… happened. Need… to find… Bruce."

"What can I do?" He stood up straight and clenched his fists.

"We need to find Bruce," May repeated, finally catching her breath. "I already checked the lab. I was running back to Tony to ask where Mr. Banner was. Do you think you can help me find him?"

Mr. Barnes nodded. "Of course. Anything for the kid." May was surprised to hear him say this, and she stared at him in mild shock. She hadn't realized that Peter had made friends with this solemn, silent man that stood before her. May's brain flickered with realization as a memory flashed into her mind…

"_-and he has this sick metal arm with this cool red star lookin' thing! So naturally I asked him if you could stick magnets to it and-"_

"_Pete, honey, this is all very nice but I'm running really late to work. Can you tell me about it later?" She shoved her feet into her shoes and grabbed several items to put in her purse. May zipped up her blue bag and grabbed the keys from the counter._

"_Oh. Ok." She thought she heard some sadness in his voice, but when she turned to look at him, he was smiling brightly at her. "Have fun at work!" May smiled at him and opened the apartment door._

"_It's work, Peter, it's not supposed to be fun." She laughed and waved goodbye to him, shutting the pale brown door behind her with a soft _thud.

Her heart ached. May would have given anything to go back to that moment, just to see his bright, contagious smile again. Just to hear him laugh like he did again. Just to see _Peter._ Sweet, care-free, innocent Peter. She would give… no. She _will_ give everything to get that Peter back.

Fighting another round of tears, May nodded at Mr. Barnes. She smiled when she saw his face was set in a gruff, angry determination.

No. Not determination.

Love.

About five minutes after speaking to Mr. Barnes, May finally reached Peter's door again. She paused before entering the small hospital room, attempting to catch her breath. The door creaked open, revealing a dark, previously fluorescent room. May didn't think much of it. She figured Tony had turned the lights off for Peter's sensitive eyes.

"Tony?" She called toward his dark figure, which was seated on her nephew's bed. "How is he? Where is Bruce?"

"He's fine," he whispered softly. "Sleeping. Bruce is probably in the living room. And please." Tony's figure shifted slightly. "Do hurry."

She nodded and ran toward the living room, trying to shake a bad feeling. Since when had Mr. Stark talked like that? _Do hurry_? Also, he never usually said please... Something didn't feel right.

Of course something didn't feel right, she thought. Her nephew was coughing up blood! She shook her head and refocused, charging through the tower like an angry bull.

She had to get to Dr. Banner. So why did it feel so wrong to run away?

When May burst into the living room, Bruce was already packing a medical bag. He hastily moved toward her and said, "I'm so sorry ma'am, when Tony told me you were running around looking for me I felt so bad." He jammed a thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the group of Avengers behind him. "You just lead me to the room."

He started to walk out, but May was frozen in place. Her face morphed into pure panic when she saw Tony Stark sitting on the couch, gazing at her earnestly. He tilted his head in confusion, wondering why the woman looked so horrified.

"Oh no. No, no, no, no. If-if you're in-in here… Who was? Oh my- Peter!" She practically screamed, turning to run back to Peter. Bruce caught her arm, gripping her firmly.

"What's wrong Mrs. Parker? Explain it to us, please. We can help." She stopped for a moment, breathing heavily.

"There was someone in the room with him. It was dark… I- I thought it was you…" May looked at Tony as if trying to convince herself he was there.

The man's eyes widened in fear and alarm. This was all his fault. He never should have left Peter alone.

Peter's breath hitched when the gun was pressed to his chest. It was happening again. The same voice. The same cold chill in his spine. The same gun. The Man was going to do those things again.

"An eye for an eye, Parker. An eye for an eye. I watched my parents die, right in front of me. All because of that arrogant idiot _Tony Stark_," he all but spat the name out. "Greed consumes us all eventually, Peter. Even our heroes. Our _idols._ My family is dead. _Dead_. And all because some billionaire needed more money." His face twisted into disgust. Seeing this stirred up a new emotion in Peter.

Anger was beginning to form, somewhere in the pit of his stomach. This anger was different, though. Normally, he felt hot anger. Fury that boiled his blood. Usually his anger was quick, explosive and lasted for a few minutes at most.

But this anger was freezing. Cold, icy hatred that was creeping into the back of his mind, dulling his other emotions. The fear was subsiding and slowly dissipating. He sat a little taller in the bed, using this new emotion.

"That's. Not. True." Peter was growling, very subtly reaching for his webslingers. "It's not his fault." The boy was completely and utterly tired of this man. This man who had continuously terrified him. This monster who had haunted his dreams and his every waking moment. In a single week, he had taken so much from Peter. Said so many things. _Done_ so many things. In a day he had become paranoid. In a day he had been forced to grow up.

Peter had been robbed of something he could never get back. Innocence.

And he was done with it all. Done with being scared of some jerk who had no one to blame his problems on except for a tired, PTSD-ridden hero who was trying his best to right all of his wrongs. Who had saved so many people, including Peter. He was done being the nice superhero. The one who laughed in the face of danger and quipped with every criminal he fought. Peter was done with being a child. That ended the day he was kidnapped.

He knew _exactly _what to use against this man to give him the advantage. And he was going to do it, regardless of the consequences.

He. Was. Done.

Malice dripped from Peter's words as he spoke. "I bet it was painful. Watching them die. Watching the life drain from their eyes. Too bad you couldn't do _anything_. Too bad you _lived_ and they _didn't._" He was very nearly yelling now.

Ibrahim leaned away from him, surprised by the sudden outburst. Something reflected in the man's eyes. Something close to… fear? Peter used this and continued. "I bet it was painful to bury your parents! Alone! No one to call your family! _NO ONE!" _

The man's arm wavered for a second. He steadied it quickly, and pressed it harder into Peter's chest. "You know _nothing_ about what I went through. _Nothing_. You're just a scared little kid, pretending that putting on a suit makes you some sort of hero." Ibrahim's brows were scrunched in fury.

A voice reverberated through Peter's skull.

"_If you're nothing without the suit, you shouldn't have it."_

"That's where you're wrong," Peter scowled, putting his injured hand on the gun barrel and inclining his head to Ibrahim. His voice dropped to a low snarl. "_I buried my parents when I was six._ And I'm not some scared little kid. Not anymore. I'm _Spider-Man_." With that he pushed the gun away from him and shot a web at the man's face.

The web struck him in the side of the head. Ibrahim seemed to lose his balance and fell forward onto Peter, the gun still clutched tightly in his fist. They wrestled for the hard silver object before a shot rang out, and there was stillness.

Stillness and silence.

**A/N: Sorry that was some heavy shiz right there. I wanted to show what happened when someone was exposed to traumatic experiences, and how it could change a person. **

**Anyway thanks for reading! Love you guys! ;)**

**Reviews: **

**Belbelanne- Thanks! You're always so sweet. 3**

**wolftattoo- I'm not sure if that's like a backhanded compliment? Or like a jab at me? If so, sorry ;( I didn't mean to sound cliche or basic. **

**-katilange **


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Wow. I have some days where I write for hours straight, and others where I write exactly 0 words. Also my laptop decided to like, not work for a day, so that was fun. **

**School is fun. I guess. Haha no. It's occupying all of my time. Like all of it. But, here's the chapter! I hope it's not, like too short or anything, I just really wanted to put something out to you guys. ;)**

**As always, if you guys could refrain from using swear words in the reviews, that would be great (I totally respect your language and how you speak, so if you don't want to, that's fine, it just makes me uncomfortable).**

**Any-who, enjoy the chapter!**

Tony's shiny black shoes slid across the floor as he sprinted around the corner. He was vaguely aware of Bucky to his right, but all he really noticed was a flash of silver.

To him, it felt like an out-of-body experience. He could almost see himself; his feet pounding on the cold tile and his arms swinging back and forth. The one thing Tony could hear was the rapid heartbeat thudding thickly in his head.

Peter was in his room with that man. He was hurt, bedridden and _alone. _Alone. And all Tony had left him was weblingers. _Webslingers. _The kid had broken fingers! How was he supposed to use those! Oh no. This was all his fault. He didn't know what he would do if Peter got hurt again. He was just a kid, for crying out loud! He was an innocent 15 year old _child._ Tony let out a grunt of frustration. Why couldn't his legs go faster? Why couldn't he _go faster…_

A shot. Was that a gunshot? A shot. There was a shot. Tony was sure it was a shot. The noise range in his ear, echoing over and over again. Was he hearing things? That was a gunshot. Oh no. Peter. _Peter._

"Peter!" He sprinted the final length of hallway, fearing the worst. He didn't want to, but he couldn't help it. Imagining what happened. What he would do if his kid was... no. No. He couldn't be gone. That wasn't going to happen. Right? It _wasn't _happening. This isn't happening. He had just seen Peter. Tony had just held his hand.

It's not happening.

_It's not happening._

Two figures lay limp on the hospital bed. The room was quiet and still. The silence grated Tony's ears, and he prayed for a sound. Any sound. Please just-

Wait.

A sob. Someone was crying. "Get him off! Off! Someone! Please…" it was Peter. Relief swept through Tony, almost bringing him to his knees. "Peter! Don't worry, I got it kid. I got it." He rushed forward, dragging the heavy body off of his kid.

"Oh. I didn't mean to- he just- the gun… I didn't… I tried to talk- it just happened. I was so- mad. Oh no. He's dead, isn't he? He wasn't supposed to- he wasn't. He's dead…" Peter stuttered in between tears. Tony grabbed him in a tight hug, rubbing his back slowly.

"It's ok Pete. It's going to be fine. It was an accident, Peter; he was a bad guy."

"No! He just- he didn't. I could've- could've just as easily been bad. He wanted his parents back… he just wanted his parents back…" He dissolved into whimpers, burying his face into Tony.

Something else had gone down, but he wasn't going to ask him about it now. For now the kid need someone there for him. He needed a father.

Bucky left the small room quietly. He felt like he was intruding on something he didn't deserve to be a part of. Once in the hallway, he leaned against the wall and slid down. Head in hands, he smiled. Smiled for the first time in days. He smiled so hard his face hurt. Peter was finally safe. _Finally_. Bucky had grown to think of Peter as a little brother… and he would have done anything for him. If Ibrahim wasn't dead on the floor already, he would have killed him.

He looked down at his metal hand. The hand that had already murdered so many people. The hand that for many days he would stare at and wish was gone. Wish that he could change what he had done.

A small red magnet was still stuck to it.

Bucky clenched a steely fist. That isn't what Peter would want. Even after Ibrahim had done so much… he still tried to defend him. The kid wouldn't want Bucky to hurt anyone because of him; it just wasn't who he was.

A single, cold tear ran down the man's cheek. The child was so kind. So forgiving. He loved everyone around him so deeply and so fiercely. But Bucky sensed that something in Peter had shifted today, like maybe something warm inside had frozen. It scared him. He didn't want Peter to grow up as fast as he did. He didn't want another kid being thrown into the bad parts of life.

Mostly, he feared that it was already too late.

Scott knew it was nearly midnight, but he didn't really have any other time to do it. In the day, everyone else would be around and watching. Truthfully, he was a little embarrassed. What right did he have to see the kid? He hadn't even been there when-

As he stood in the doorway, the weight in his hand seemed to grow heavier. Fighting back tears, he sucked in a breath and snuck into the room, edging past a sleeping Tony and stepping over Natasha's crossed legs. The man stopped beside Peter's bed and stared gently down at him. He tried to find the right words, but nothing came. Still, Scott felt he owed it to the kid to at least say something…

"I…" he started, "I'm so... I'm so sorry, Pete. You, uh, you're like a little brother to me and… and I wasn't…" he choked on his words. "I wasn't there for you, um, when you… you needed me the most. And… and for that, kid… for that, I'll never forgive myself. I know that, um. I know that I can't do… do much right now. But I brought you something…" he laid down the item on the bed. "I know that it can't… can't make up for… what I did. Or, uh, what I _didn't _do… but I hope… I hope that it makes you laugh, at least."

Wiping his face, he turned and walked to the door. "I- I love you, kid. Get better." With this he walked away.

After he left, Natasha moved forward and grabbed the object off of the bed, fearing it would fall. She placed it on Peter's bedside table, wondering why Scott would give the child a frying pan.

"Tony." Nat placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Go get some breakfast, you look like crap." He opened his mouth to start another argument with her but she shot him a look.

"He'll be fine. Go." Tentatively, he backed away, throwing concerned glances over his shoulder as he exited.

Natasha sighed and sat down again, keeping a careful watch on the sleeping child. The beeping of the hospital machines began to lull her into a haze.

A few minutes of blank staring later, Peter suddenly gasped in his sleep, calling out unintelligible words. He started to shed tears as well. Something inside called her to him. Now fully alert, she leaned forward and began to run her fingers through his fluffy brown hair. And then, surprising herself, Nat began to sing softly in an attempt to comfort him.

"Спи, младенец мой прекрасный,

Баюшки-баю.

Тихо смотрит месяц ясный

В колыбель твою.

Стану сказывать я сказки,

Песенку спою;

Ты ж дремли, закрывши глазки,

Баюшки-баю.

Сам узнаешь, будет время,

Бранное житье;

Смело вденешь ногу в стремя

И возьмешь ружье.

Я седельце боевое

Шелком разошью...

Спи, дитя мое родное,

Баюшки-баю."

The melody carried throughout the room and the sweet notes danced in the air, waltzing with her harsh Russian accent. By the time she finished, the boy had calmed down, and his breathing returned to normal.

Nat smiled softly, remembering a day when someone would sing to her. That time was long ago, far beyond the grasp of her mind. She couldn't even recall who had sung, but the tune remained ingrained in her memory.

"Sleep well, mаленький паук," she whispered. "Sleep well, Я буду присматривать за тобой."

She repeated in English, "I will watch over you."

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed! This chapter was mostly fluff. ;) Also don't come after me if I botched any Russian. The song should be accurate, but the single words may not be. **

**Also, I updated the first chapter of this story because it was not good lol. Feel free to check it out (it may or may not have Office references).**

**Anyway, love you guys! Feel free to leave a review! 3**

**-katilange ;)**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hello again! It's been a few days, so I hope you are all doing well! This chapter is kind of a mish mash of things, but I read and re-read it over and over again to make sure it makes some sort of sense.**

**As always, if you guys could refrain from using swear words in the reviews, that would be great (I totally respect your language and how you speak, so if you don't want to, that's fine, it just makes me uncomfortable).**

**Any-who! Enjoy the chapter, and be sure to leave any remarks or comments in a review!**

Peter cracked his right eye open, not wanting to awake from the deep sleep he had sunk into. Granted, it wasn't a completely _calm_ rest. But something had soothed his mind in the middle of a nightmare that had helped him fall into a more relaxed rest. He strained to remember… someone speaking? No. Singing. The memory flooded back to him abruptly. It was a female voice… singing in Russian. He remembered the tune, but didn't recognize the words from what little Russian he knew.

Was Nat singing to him? His mouth twitched in a slight smile.

"Pete. You're awake." Mr. Stark said from beside him. Peter looked over at him awkwardly.

"Uh… yes." He didn't know what else to say. How could he thank Mr. Stark for all that he had done? Tony had saved him from… that place. He had been there for him during… all of it. He wanted to express his deep gratitude, but all that came out was 'uh yes', and that frustrated Peter.

Before the man could speak, he lunged forward and hugged Tony, blurting out, "I love you, Mr. Stark."

Tony was caught off guard, to say the least. That was the last thing he expected, and it was written all over his face. He recovered quickly, though, wrapping his arms around the small child.

"Hey, I- uh. I love you too, kid," he said softly. They stayed frozen for a moment, then Tony pulled away and looked into his kid's eyes. "Now. Don't _ever_ do that to me again. I swear I grew an entire head of gray hair." Peter pulled away and collapsed back down on his bed, giving a quick snort.

Comfortable silence filled the room as both Peter and Tony got swept into the river of their thoughts. The child, staring at the wall, said softly, almost inaudibly, "I said things, Mr. Stark. And I- I… felt things… that I'm scared of." He took a breath and picked absently at his nails. "How… could I have said that? I mean he… Ibrahim," the name felt foreign in his mouth. He only learned the man's name yesterday. "He's dead… and I- I just… how could I have done that?"

"Kid," Tony sighed. "Peter. Pete, look at me." He slowly turned his head and made eye contact with the older man. "You've been through a lot the past couple days, kid. You can't… you can't blame yourself for anything that happened. It wasn't your fault. You hear me? It _wasn't _your fault."

Peter nodded halfheartedly. "Yeah. Ok." Then why did he still see the look in Ibrahim's eyes as the last of his life left his body? Why did he still feel the weight of a dead man, crushing his chest and constricting his oxygen? Why could he still hear the gunshot ringing like a siren in his ears?

Why did he fear that the cold, empty feeling that had dripped into his heart would return?

"Good. Now, let's get some lunch before you meet my hangry alter-ego. FRIDAY," Tony called. "Ask Pep to bring me and the kid some food. And get May in here."

"On it, boss."

May was next to Peter on the bed, her long, slender arm draped around his shoulders. She inhaled and exhaled steadily, indicating a peaceful rest. After she ate dinner with her nephew, May practically collapsed with exhaustion. Tony tried to get her to leave and sleep in a real bed, but he lost that fight before it had even really begun. Ironically, it ended with her convincing him to leave and get some sleep.

Natasha, the only other person in the room, sat in the corner and watched silently. With her all-black jumpsuit and steady gaze, she appeared almost cat-like. Occasionally, she looked down at her phone and tapped on it for a few minutes.

Peter sat in his bed, trying not to move, but was largely unsuccessful. He tapped his fingers, wrung his hands, picked his nails. He itched. Itched to get in his suit and swing around New York. Mr. Stark had forbidden it because of his injuries. His broken bones and cuts were basically healed (thank you, radioactive spider), but the cut on his right arm still throbbed with pain. The doctor had told him that it was infected and would take longer, but for crying out loud! You would think that the fractured fingers would take longer than a stupid cut!

For the third time in the last five minutes, Peter shifted positions carefully. Whenever he rearranged his legs or torso, he was meticulously careful in keeping May's arm still.

Nat, whose face glowed from her phone screen, looked up and stared at him. A moment passed.

"What?"

"Are you uncomfortable? Does your arm hurt or something?" She placed her phone on the chair and walked over to the bed.

"No, no! I'm… fine." He sighed. "I'm just going insane! I want to be Spider-Man! I want to swing around and save people and fight bad guys! I want to go to school and see Ned and MJ… I just want things to be like they were before." He ran a bandaged hand through his hair.

"I think I have an idea to help you feel less stir-crazy." She smiled slyly. "But we're going to need some help." After grabbing her phone and sending a quick text, she ran over to Peter again. "Do you have a paper?" His face scrunched up and his mind swirled with confusion.

"Uh, yes? Well, _I_ don't. But there's some in that cupboard, I think. Also, what is going on?" She didn't respond, only moved to the cupboard and retrieved the paper and scribbled a quick note. Nat returned to Peter's side, grabbing a couple of pillows. She reached her hand behind his neck and held Aunt May's arm up.

"Get up," she whispered. "Come on!" He ducked underneath her arm and stood shakily. Peter found he had to put a hand on the wall to stay standing; he hadn't really gotten up and moved around much in the past few days. Natasha was busy shoving pillows onto the bed strategically, so that May would still feel her 'nephew' next to her. Once she finished, she put the note on one of the pillows and turned to Peter.

"Here, let's get you in a wheelchair." She helped him over to a black chair in the corner of the room, lowering him gently down. "FRIDAY, would you do me a favor?"

"That depends, Ms. Romanoff," came the mechanic reply.

"If Tony, or anyone else, comes in here and freaks out, tell them that I have Peter and to chill. Ok?"

"That seems to be within my capabilities. May I ask where you're going?"

Nat smiled and put a finger to her lips. "It's a secret."

Scott paced back and forth in the lonely hallway, thoroughly confused and slightly nervous. He glanced down at his phone and reread Natasha's text again.

"'Meet me in the hallway next to Office Room C'. Why? What the heck?" Scott shook his head. He hardly new Natasha! Why in the world would she want to meet him here? At 10 p.m.? Scott was about to leave when a noise caught his attention and he turned to identify the source. A voice filled the hall and echoed around him. A voice he recognized. A voice he had prayed he'd hear again.

"Tell meeeeeee! Where are we going? Why won't you tell me ..." Peter complained. When he spotted Scott he grinned. "Oh! Hey, Scott! What are you doing here?" Nat stopped, also bringing the child in the wheelchair to a halt.

"Beats me," he shrugged, looking to the woman for an explanation.

"We," she smiled. "Are going to have some fun."

A few minutes later, laughter rang brightly throughout the long hallway. Peter wheezed with delight in the wheelchair. He sputtered out, "Again! Oh my gosh that was amazing! _Please_ do it again!" Scott chuckled and grabbed the chair's handles. He rushed forward, tipping Peter back as he did so. "WOAH!"

Scott put down the chair and then jumped onto the back, riding down the rest of the hallway. "Stop. Stop! We're gonna hit the door!" Peter yelled in between laughs. At the last second, the older man pulled the wheelchair to an abrupt stop. "Dude! AGAIN!"

Nat leaned against the wall casually, watching the pair goof around. She figured as long as no one died, it was fine to let them continue for as long as they wanted. Besides, they needed this. Both of them.

"No, no, no! We're gonna crash!" Peter screamed. A solid thud and a loud bang sounded out as the two went tumbling to the floor.

"Anyone dead?" She called.

"No, we're fine," Peter gasped, giggling uncontrollably. They sat on the floor in silence while they caught their breath.

"Scott," the kid said quietly after a minute.

"Yeah Pete?"

"I just want to thank you… uh, for this. And I… I don't blame you. For what happened." His large brown eyes stared earnestly into Scott's.

"Oh. Uh. Ok. Thanks…"

"_What _is going on?" Bucky stood at the end of the hallway, looking slightly concerned.

"Oh my gosh, Mr. Bucky, sir! You _have _to try this!"

"Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark!"

"Yes?"

"Can you tell us if the kidnapping of Peter Parker has to do with Spider-Man's recent absence?" The news reporter held the microphone close to his face.

"Yes. Spider-Man very kindly agreed to help us in relocating Peter." A hum of noise filled the conference room as the reporters all paused and scribbled things down. "Next question."

An array of 'over here's slammed into his ears. "Ok, you," he said, pointing to a small man with thinning black hair.

"Can you tell us why Mr. Parker was taken? Does it have to do with Stark Enterprises?"

"I can't exactly explain the reasons of disturbed individual. Perhaps we will never know why. As for the company, to my knowledge, this incident has nothing to do with Stark Enterprises," Pepper said from beside Tony. "Tony and the rest of the Avengers agreed to search for Peter because of his involvement with the Stark Internship."

"So, it _does _have something to do with Stark Enterprises?" The reporter leaned forward in anticipation.

"No. This is not business related. That will be all the questions for now." She and Tony pivoted and left, leaving behind a yelling crowd and flashing cameras. It all silenced as they closed the door behind them.

"I can't stand them!" He exclaimed. "They're just itching for some _crap story_, those good for nothing-"

"Tony. I get it. But we just have to wait it out until this whole thing blows over. Ok?"

He huffed. "Ok. Fine. Just let it blow over. It'll all blow over…"

Peter hugged his best friend tightly. "Man, it's so good to see you," Ned said. "I was so freakin worried, dude! Like what the heck!" They pulled apart and MJ stepped up, grabbing him and drawing him close.

"Never. Do that again," she whispered and moved back.

"I'm sorry," Peter said, bowing his head; brown hair flopped over his eyes.

"What are you sorry for, dumb nut? You got kidnapped!" She whacked him playfully. He looked up and laughed a little.

"I guess that's true." They all trekked out of Peter's apartment and onto the sidewalk. "I can't believe I'm going… back to school."

"Yeah, me either dude. Are you sure you're ready?"

Peter picked at his nails and gave a slow nod. "I've got nothing better to do."

Ned and MJ exchanged a nervous glance.

"Just let us know if you need anything. Please, let us know."

No one was talking to him. They were all talking _about _him, but that's not the same thing. The usual overwhelming noise of high-schoolers would die down to low whispers when Peter walked by. They all turned away and murmured, shooting tense gazes at him over their shoulder.

He hugged himself tightly, ignoring the pain in his bandaged right arm, and kept his head down. At this point, he had picked his nails down to stubs, so he started scratching his thumb with his pointer finger. Peter would have preferred them all coming up to him at once. Anything was better than this.

The stares made him anxious. He began to walk faster. _They're talking about you. They're all talking about you._ His vision tunneled a little. The walls were closing in and he could hear whispers. Whispering. That's all he could hear. Whispers. Why wouldn't they just go away? They were talking about him. Muttering under their breath. Breath. His was going faster and faster. It was all getting too loud. No one was talking, but it was too loud. The _whispers_. A large man who was mopping nearby asked, "Hey kid, are you ok?"

"_We'll see each other again soon, Spider-Man."_

Peter veered to the right and ducked into a janitor's closet. He sank to the floor and put his head between his knees, softly humming a Russian tune to himself as he choked in air. He realized he had scratched the skin on his thumb raw, but it had already begun to heal.

"You're ok, Peter. You're ok. He's gone… he's gone." Dead, Peter reminded himself. Dead. That man wasn't just gone. He was _dead. _All because of him.

"You're ok. You're ok. It's just school. You can do this. Get up. If all else fails, fake it til' you make it. You're ok." He stood, wobbling on his feet.

_You got this_, he thought.

"You. Got. This."

**A/N: Hey all! Thanks for reading!**

**I decided that as, like, a nervous tick Peter could pick his nails and scratch his thumb. I did this because that's what I do, and it's easier to write about something I can relate to. **

**Also, I'm curious where y'all would like to see this story go. I have some ideas that could continue it, or I could start a new one. Let me know what you think!**

**Anyway, love you guys!**

**-katilange**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Hello again! I have a quick message that goes with today's chapter: As I am writing Peter's trauma/PTSD, I want to make it clear that I am not an expert! (if you do have pointers, let me know) I assure you I mean no offense or disrespect. I also want to say: if you are dealing with something, even if it isn't PTSD, please reach out! I promise there are so many people who will help you! And if you need someone to talk to, my PM is always open.**

**Sorry to get so serious ;). As always, if you guys could refrain from using swear words in the reviews, that would be great (I totally respect your language and how you speak, so if you don't want to, that's fine, it just makes me uncomfortable).**

**Any-who! Enjoy today's chapter, and be sure to leave any comments/suggestions in the reviews! Love you guys 3**

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap._

Peter's finger thudded against the table rhythmically. He stared at a small pocket knife Tony kept on his desk. _Tap_. Hot fire in his arm. _Tap_. Steel glinting in low light. _Tap_. A wicked face leaning toward him, grinning as thick wetness pooled underneath Peter's back. _Tap_. Fear crawling up his neck like a spider-

"Kid. Kid. Hello! Earth to Pete!" Tony waved a hand in front of Peter's face. The child jumped, staring at Tony in mild surprise.

"Sorry. What were you saying?"

The man sighed, rubbing his beard and sitting down in front of Peter. "Listen, Underoos," he struggled to find the correct words. "Are you… ok? I mean, really?"

He smiled weakly, running a hand through his fluffy curls, "I'm fine, Mr. Stark, you don't have to worry." Tony huffed out a soft breath. He'd heard that one before.

"Peter… you haven't… really talked about what, uh. What went on. I think it would be a good thing for you to… tell someone. It doesn't- it doesn't have to be me… but- just someone," he finished unsteadily. He didn't want to admit it, but Tony would like it if Peter talked to him. He wouldn't be able to hide his mild disappointment if the kid _didn't_ open up to him.

Peter didn't know why Mr. Stark was asking. He didn't think someone like Iron Man would want to hear him complain about it. "I… I'm really fine, Tony. I don't want to be a burden."

"Peter. I care about you, and if you don't want to talk about it, then say so. But don't just lie and say it's fine."

In all honesty, Peter was aching to say something. His brain was like an overflowing dam and he was worried that a small drop would make it burst. On the other hand, what right did he have to dump his crap on Mr. Stark?

Tony could almost see the mental debate his kid was having. He sat in silence, letting Peter decide what he wanted to do.

"It was dark… most of the time," Peter started. Relief started to flood through both parties. "My eyes adjusted quickly, but there was nothing else in… that room to look at. He… uh." The child inhaled shakily.

"It's ok, Peter."

"He would take the knife," Peter seemed to redirect the statement. "It was a sharp knife. It was silver, too, with a gold handle. I looked at that knife a lot and wonder where it came from, who made it." He paused, glancing quickly up at Tony. "He would… tell me things while he, uh, worked, things about his childhood." The child looked at Tony in the eye then, tears beginning to form. "He tried to get me to… he tried, uh. I didn't want…" he paused, collecting his thoughts, and again changing the topic. "I guess he wanted to test… how my Spider powers worked; how strong I was, or something. Um… he liked to see how I reacted to… to gunshot wounds… and poison… that was one of his favorites because I seem to heal from that the fastest." He cringed.

"How did he even have _time_ to test all of this?" The man pondered skeptically.

"4 days is lots of time, Mr. Stark. Plenty." A cold chill ran down Tony's spine that was quickly replaced with hard anger.

"Um. If you don't mind me asking, what kind of... poison did he make you take?"

"I-I don't really know. There was this one that… that he said was. Um. Was supposed to make my heart… stop. That one was- was… it was. Oh. Uh. It… it uh-" he put his small hand slowly up to his mouth and started to sob, his already large brown eyes wide.

"I'm so sorry." Mr. Stark put a hand on the back of Peter's neck. "I wish I could've gotten there sooner. It shouldn't have even happened," he snarled. He was so, _so_ furious with himself. Why did it have to be Peter? This was all his fault…

"You shouldn't be sorry, Mr. Stark," the kid said softly, his breaths more even now. "I should have been stronger, I probably could have taken him if-"

"No."

"But I-"

"No." Tony cut him off again. "You can't blame yourself for this. Promise me you won't."

Peter drew away from him in surprise. He wagged his head up and down passively. "I- guess. I promise."

They both knew that was a lie.

He was walking. He was alone. The wind was starting to pick up, as a storm was nearby. Every few minutes Peter could see a bright flash of lightning followed by a far away boom of thunder. Yellow street lights lit his path down an empty sidewalk. It was quiet, except for the storm and a few leaves that flitted up the street. As a spray of wetness hit his face, and he realized that there was a sprinkler nearby that was being blown to him.

For some reason, Peter felt like he was being followed. It was a nagging emotion that, no matter how many times he tried to shake it off, always lurked in his mind. Every dark shadow looked like a person. Every sound was like a voice. Adrenaline began to pump through his veins and he walked a little faster.

_Crunch_. Was that a leaf? Did someone-? He whipped his head around, calling into the inky blackness, "Who's out there? Hello?" Another _snap_ behind him. Peter turned about face and raised his hands in defense, but saw nothing. Fear overtook him, and he started to run the opposite direction, looking over his shoulder anxiously.

"_He's coming for you…" _a scratchy voice whispered into his ear.

"No!" Peter yelled and started to sprint harder.

"_Yes. He'll get you again. Maybe stop you for good this time."_

"NO!" He screamed again. His foot caught a rock and he fell, landing hard on his right shoulder. It burned with agony.

"_What does it matter? No one will miss you when you're gone. You're a burden, Peter. You couldn't even go a week without spilling your guts to Tony Stark."_

"It wasn't like that! He wanted me to! I He asked me to!" He cried, furiously searching his surroundings for whoever was speaking.

"_No one will miss you Peter. No one."_

"No!"

Peter shot up like a rocket, sweat pouring from his pale face. The dream stayed burned into his mind like a brand. Words echoed throughout his skull., seeming to also reverberate in the room.

He looked around him, trying to decipher where he was. _The Tower, _he remembered suddenly. _I'm in the Tower. _He was lying on a couch near the kitchen, and it was still pitch black outside. His arm throbbed painfully, like he had really fallen on it.

Peter drew his knees to his chest, hugging them tightly. "I just… won't go back to bed," he decided out loud.

"And why's that?" Clint was perched on the counter top, holding a bowl of Fruit Loops. Peter jumped and looked at him, his face lighting up in faux joy.

"Hi, Clint! I didn't realize anyone else was here."

The man stared at Peter tiredly. "Look, Peter. I know you don't know me _that _well, but you don't have to pretend…" the kid's face dropped a little. He had been caught. "Was it a nightmare?" The child cringed and pulled his knees closer.

"Would you believe me if I said no?" One of the corners of his mouth lifted up in an exhausted smile.

"That depends. Would you lie?" Clint set his bowl down and hopped off the counter, walking over to the couch. He sat across from Peter, folding his long, taut legs underneath him. The kid's eyes followed him carefully as he did this. "Do you want to talk about it?"

_You couldn't even go a week without spilling your guts to Tony Stark._

Peter shifted uncomfortably. _Yes_, he thought. "Not really. Don't worry about it," he said unconvincingly.

"Peter," Clint said. "You shouldn't keep this type of thing to yourself. It's just… it's just not healthy."

"I'm not keeping anything to myself, Mr. Barton. I'm an open book!" He held his arms out wide.

Clint sighed. He stood and headed back to his cereal. "Ok, bud. But if you ever need someone to talk to, my door is always open." He scooped up his Fruit Loops and strode out of the room, door thudding softly behind him. Peter huffed in relief. He didn't think he could hold it in if Clint had stayed longer.

He wouldn't care anyway. Man , this sucked. _Stay Optimistic, _he scolded himself. He was supposed to be the happy one! So why couldn't he just _be_ happy? He had a lot! He got to swing around, talk to the Avengers, he had an awesome aunt and friends. Peter didn't want to complain if he had all of that.

_I just won't talk about it_, he resolved. _Yeah, that's a plan. Don't talk about it._

Laying back down on the couch, he pulled out his phone. Something had to keep him occupied until the sun came up.

"I'm worried about him, Pep. I mean, he hardly eats and he always looks tired! Not just tired, but _exhausted_. And he hasn't talked about what happened since that day a week ago." Tony paced back and forth, throwing his hands up as he spoke. "Maybe I shouldn't have let him patrol this soon after…"

"Tony."

"I mean between being Spider-Man, school, and probably trauma, why wouldn't he look tired? Should we see if he'll go to a therapist? Does May know that-"

"_Tony."_

"He's out almost every single night until 1 am! And he gets up at 6 every morning for school. That's gotta be stressful. I think I should-"

"_Tony!" _

He stopped pacing and looked at Pepper. "What?" She grunted in frustration and came over to him.

"Calm down for a second." Tony took a deep breath and sat down tiredly, looking up at her. "Why don't we ask him?"

"I've tried, but ever since that night… he won't talk about it. Argh. I just… I don't know what to do." She put a hand on his shoulder in comfort.

"I think we should talk to May about this."

"Ok. Ok, yeah. I guess lets talk to May."

**A/N: Thanks for reading! I'm trying to decide what to do with the story. Either I can continue with some ideas I have, or start another one. For now, I'm going to continue this one, but let me know what you guys think! (although I think I might do both :) )**

**I just wanted to thank these lovely humans for following me: HowTheTurnTables, JoeyM1227, egwilliams2002, , Linus494, stepanzas2, Belbelanne, Shadow Leaf Nin, annemarie2430, Fwoosheye, Myrddynn, rmitchell048, cheezits03, grey32, Where-is-my-Hogwarts-letter (same), Xybelle, redhoodfan, Shannon K, nadja. , GamingSoldier86, 333, Freckled Angel 11, SoccerGirl1909 and onceuponahogwartsletter. **

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**Also thanks to all you even viewing my stuff! Love you guys too!**

**Bottom line is: thank you, thank you! I genuinely enjoy writing stuff and it's what I'm passionate about! I'm so glad that you all want to keep up with my work. I'd be happy writing for just my best friend and my mom, but to see other people enjoy it… it's whack. I can't thank you enough for all the sweet reviews some of y'all have left. 3 you guys are the best. **

**Again. I love you! Stay amazing!**

**-katilange**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Hello, beautiful humans! Welcome to another chapter. ;) This one took me a weird amount of time to finish, so I hope you like it!**

**Also, I went back and updated a few of the older chapters, so feel free to go back and read them! Or don't, you choose. :)**

**As always, if you guys could refrain from using swear words in the reviews, that would be great (I totally respect your language and how you speak, so if you don't want to, that's fine, it just makes me uncomfortable).**

**Any-who! Make sure to leave any comments/suggestions in the reviews. Love you all, and enjoy.**

Peter swung swiftly from building to building, relishing the cool air that was rushing around him. His right arm still ached and burned a little, but he didn't care. He was finally free. Swinging around, saving people, stopping bad guys… being Spider-Man was the only time he felt _really_ happy nowadays. That, and when he hung around the Tower with the Avengers.

Landing softly on the roof of a tall building, he pulled his mask off and sat on the edge to stare at the stunning view. The lights below him sparkled merrily, reminding him why he loved the city. It was always lit up like a Christmas tree, especially at night. A small smile played on his lips as he gazed out at the beautiful, messy, lively city that is New York.

_I love you, Queens, _Peter thought. _I'm never leaving this place, even if it kills me. _

"And it just might," he said to himself.

Peter shut the door to his apartment gently, trying not to wake May. It was late; 1:32 am to be exact. He turned around to sneak back to his room like he usually did, but froze when he saw who was sitting on the couch. It was Pepper. Why was she here? And this late? She wasn't alone, he realized, perplexed. Mr. Stark was also there. And Aunt May. One lamp was lit, setting a soft glow in the room.

"Peter," May said softly. "You're out late, baby. Do you always get home at this time?"

"Uh. It depends, I guess." She sighed at his non-committal answer. "Come sit with us." May patted the cushion next to hers. "We need to talk."

He hesitantly moved forward. "Is this an intervention?" Peter was joking, but the way that Pepper and Tony looked at each other, he worried that it actually was. He sat down slowly, staring at each of them carefully. "I'm not addicted to anything, you know." This received a small chuckle from Mr. Stark.

"We know, kid," he said. "That's not it. We just… we think that…" he struggled for words. "We're worried about you, Pete." May grabbed Peter's hand and rubbed her thumb in small circles.

"We think that you aren't… coping right, baby. I mean, you hardly eat, you get 4 hours of sleep every night. Ms. Potts suggested that we take you to a therapist, or something like that."

A therapist? Seriously? He had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. He knew they were only suggesting this out of love.

"But I'm fine," he insisted. "Really. You don't have to worry."

"That's just it, kid. Anyone who went through… what you did... wouldn't be fine." The boy looked around at the three adults, feeling his mood abruptly shift to anger.

"Why can't you just trust me? If I said I'm fine, then I am." He pulled his hand away from May, and stood, marching out of the room. He heard someone call his name as he left, but he did not turn around.

Peter's face was flushed when he got to his room and sat down. This was _so_ embarrassing. A therapist? He hardly knew what a therapist did, but he just knew Flash would tease him about it. And all of them agreed. Probably the rest of the team, too. Ugh. Why couldn't they just believe him?

I mean, he wasn't really fine. Peter knew that. But what good would laying on a couch and talking about feelings do? That's what people did in therapy; he had seen the movies. And that wasn't really his jam. Better to handle it himself.

He collapsed backward onto his bed, picking his nails habitually. His arm throbbed. Peter peeled back the bandage that was still covering it, shocked that it was still an angry red. Touching it revealed that his skin was also really hot. That didn't normally happen, right? The other arm had healed normally. Whatever, it was probably fine. His enhanced body would take care of it.

"Peter?" Someone knocked on his door. "Hey Underoos, it's me. Can I come in?"

"Free country," he said. He replaced the bandage on his arm and turned away from the door, determined not to look at Mr. Stark. Peter knew that if he did, he would crack.

Tony walked over and sat in the red office chair next to Peter's desk. He fiddled with an Iron-Man action figure on that was laid on the desk.

"Underoos is a little long, don't you think? How 'bout… Undies? No, wait that does _not_ work. Roos? That one's better… what do you think?"

"I don't really care…" Peter mumbled. He knew Mr. Stark was trying to break the tension, but he would _not_ joke around. As much as he wanted to...

Tony sighed. "When I got back from that cave in Afghanistan… I was different. Pepper knew it, Happy knew it, even the media knew it. Everyone knew it... except for me. I refused to see that anything inside of me had changed at all. I was still the cocky, smart-alec, genius that the world had a love/hate relationship with. At least, that's what I wanted. To still be the same." He ran a hand through his graying hair. "But I wasn't, kid. That's the point. Once I realized that… well. It wasn't easy, but things got better."

Still on his back, Peter was now looking at the ceiling, focusing on one of his glow-in-the-dark stars that stuck to the surface.

"You know, I'm sure my therapist would be happy to fit you into her schedule." Peter was so surprised by the casual statement that he forgot he was avoiding Mr. Stark's gaze. He turned and looked at the older man.

"You went to therapy?" He asked, eyes wide.

He held up his finger. "Correction. I _go_ to therapy. Despite what you may imagine, kid, therapy is a serious deal. I really think you should consider it."

Peter squinted in thought. "But I-"

"Don't. Tell me you're fine."

There was a heavy silence. "Can I sleep on it?" Peter finally said, nervously picking his fingers.

"Of course. Just, don't think about it too long," he smiled. "We'll talk later?"

"Sure," Peter said absently. He stared out his at Queens through his dirty window pane. "See you."

He didn't hear Mr. Stark leave.

Thin, translucent strands clung to his hands, tickling his palms. He knew he would be grossed out if he was anyone else. Spider webs. They were webs. But not like the webs he made in his biology lab… no… these were from a real spider. He could tell by the way they delicately stuck to one another, forming a beautiful pattern that seemed to go on forever. Peter vaguely recalled someone saying that a spider's web could stop a jet plane if woven correctly.

Somehow he knew that the white strings were from a black widow.

_One of the most deadly spiders in western America,_ the voice reminded him.

Ah. So it was back. The voice that had tormented his mind for the last couple of nights… and days.

"I'm dreaming," he said aloud. His voice came out strangely calm. Peter's dreams with this voice were usually frantic and terrifying, but somehow this was worse. It was eerie and unsettling. He had the strange feeling of unease tugging at his every muscle.

"Where am I?" He asked into the tangled knot of webs that surrounded him thickly.

_One would have to consider where you go when you sleep… so I would say… your mind. It's quite a mess, isn't it, Peter? You can't seem to untangle yourself from it, can you?_

The teen didn't respond for a moment. This seemed like a conversation, and he didn't usually _talk_ to the odd voice in his head.

"Does that mean… you're in my brain?"

Raspy laughing surrounded him from all sides. _Don't ask stupid questions, Peter; you'll get stupid answers._ The voice echoed all around him. Peter scanned the pearl heap of web, trying to pinpoint the source. _You can look all you want. You won't find me. Because there is no me. You created me, remember? Back in that room... something happened to you. Something that I just had to come and see._

Recalling that moment left a metallic taste in his mouth. He was in so much agony then. Almost unimaginable pain. Being crushed by a building seemed like a breeze. At that point, he was absolutely sure Mr. Stark wasn't coming… so he gave up. He finally let go, and at that time, his brain all but crumbled from the stress. It was now that Peter was scrambling to put back together the pieces of his broken mind.

_How are you supposed to do that, _the voice sang, _if you can't even tell what's real? _

Peter began to fight the webs, pulling with all his strength against them. He tugged furiously, desperate to get free… like a fly caught in a spider's webs.

_Oh Peter… good luck. But you can't escape your own head._

Peter jerked up in bed, his hands still pulling at invisible webs. He looked around, disoriented. He could've sworn that he was just touching the gooey substance… that he was just hearing the voice… Which was apparently a voice in his head. Which was weird. And... not healthy. He was almost certain now that he was going crazy.

Peter grabbed his phone and flicked it on to see the time, squinting at the sudden brightness.. 4:28 am. It had been almost 3 hours since Tony had talked to him. He unlocked it and opened his messages, selecting Mr. Stark's contact. He stood then, pulling on his suit and typing a text as he went.

Despite how early it was, Peter knew that Tony would be up; he would probably be working in his lab, or up stressing about business. That's why he texted him. Because he knew that Mr. Stark would be there for what he needed. _Right now._

He knew it now.

It was time.

**A/N: Thanks so much for reading! I seriously hope you liked it.**

**Also, disclaimer: I personally think therapy is one of the best things anyone can do, so don't feel like I have something against it. I don't. :)**

**See you next time! 3**

**-katilange**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Hello! So, this chapter doesn't contain as much fluff or anything. It's kind of an intro to something. The next one should have a lot more of Peter and Tony, but for now, this is what you get! (that was me faking confidence because in reality I require validation)**

**As always, if you guys could refrain from using swear words in the reviews, that would be great (I totally respect your language and how you speak, so if you don't want to, that's fine, it just makes me uncomfortable).**

**Any-who! Enjoy and make sure to leave any suggestions/comments in the reviews! Love you guys!**

_Saturday May 2nd, 10:09pm_

_The night Ibrahim Abboud was shot and killed in the Avengers Tower._

_(Two weeks ago)._

"So the Iraqi was a bust. Who else are we going to use?!" The tall, broad-shouldered man stood and slammed his fist down in frustration, his haughty voice echoing through the conference room. The woman next to him rolled her cat-like green eyes.

"Calm down. There are plenty of people practically _begging_ to get a hold of Stark; we have a long list to choose from. Besides, if worst comes to worst we could always go in."

"Yes, Cecily, but _he _was the best! He had more than 10 years of training!"

"Oh can it, you big lug," she muttered, annoyed.

"Why you-"

"Quiet. And sit down," the person at the head of the table said loudly, instantly tensing the atmosphere. She rose and walked slowly back and forth in front of the others. The only noise in the room was the steady click of her mauve heels on the dark hardwood. "You're acting like children," she said. Her heavy Irish accent permeated the air. "I need ideas, not arguments."

"Using the boy seemed to work well; Stark practically tore up all of New York looking for him," a short, pudgy man sitting next to Cecily said helpfully. Said woman rolled her eyes again.

"Yes, but I bet there isn't a teenager with more security in all of Eastern America. We can't just kidnap kids every time we run out of plans."

"And why not?" The angry, broad-shouldered man grumbled.

"Because, Axel, don't you think that would call a _little_ attention to ourselves?"

A tall, lean, handsome man with shoulder length curly dark hair said in a slight British accent, "If we are to get to Stark using the boy, it would have to be more subtle. Like… the Aremny method perhaps?" He leaned forward eagerly.

"You and your _precious_ method. The answer to every problem can't be Aremny," a small red-headed woman said in a high, whiny voice. "I agree with Mark." She gestured to the stout man. "Let's just take the little brat again. Except this time, one of us could do it so it doesn't fail."

"I don't know Kaylee... I'm with Leo on this one. The Aremny might actually work," Cecily said. She twirled a slender finger through her strawberry blonde hair. "I mean think about it… the four stages are almost perfect for the situation: _statuere_, _fiducia_, _imperium_, _proditione_," she spoke passionately, raising her hands up and down. "Very simple, and yet, you can't mess up any of them. Really, quite well developed." Leo smiled and blushed with pride, noticeably giving her a gracious look..

"The only reason you're saying that is because _he_ came up with it," said Kaylee, flipping her hair. Cecily reddened and dropped her hands, shooting her petite coworker a venomous glare.

The Irish woman at the front of the room stopped pacing curtly, sending them into an uncomfortable silence. She turned to them, staring into all of their eyes intensely.

"I suppose Aremny will have to do. Leo, you're in charge; Cecily's with you. Axel, Mark and Kaylee, you're on intelligence." With that, she walked out of the room, commanding the attention of everyone for a few moments. They all kept quiet as she exited, none of them daring to breathe.

The door slammed shut.

Erin Agnew; about the only kid in 1st grade with a distinct Irish accent. Unfortunately that wouldn't be the only thing she was known for in school.

Pregnant by 16, and dropped out of school three months later, she expected nothing from her life but a lousy double-shift as a waitress. She held resentment for her boyfriend who had decided he was too good for a baby, and a contrasting love for her unborn child. At least with a kid, she wouldn't be alone.

Her immigrant parents were surprisingly supportive of this early pregnancy, providing financial aid when she needed and added encouraging words. Erin knew that secretly they were disappointed in her for giving up her dreams, but she tried to not let it get to her.

The day the baby was born was the hardest and best day of her life. Her little boy, Pietro, lovingly nicknamed Pete, was perfect in every way. With twinkling green eyes resembling her mother's and curly black hair, he was the love of her life.

It wasn't until Pete had grown up some that he realized how much his mother did for him. At age 13, he saw how she came home exhausted and ready to collapse, but still put on a brave face for him. At 15, he noticed the way she longingly looked at happy couples in parks or restaurants, wishing for a stable relationship. At 16, tired of feeling guilty for his mother's unhappiness, Pietro finally pushed her to go to an online school and fulfill her dream of becoming a lawyer, so that she could stop working three junky jobs for him. At 17, he congratulated his mother at her graduation, having finished her schooling faster than anyone in her class. By 17 and a half, he was gone.

Erin remembered her graduation fondly; after years of work and depression and jealousy, she was at long last, proud of herself. She remembered the way her son had smiled his bright smile up at her and given her a thumbs-up from the crowd. Oh, how she longed to see him again.

A tornado had passed through her small town in Oklahoma and demolished several houses. She recalled pushing through the swarm of people that were staring at the destroyed home. Bricks and beams lay scattered up and down the street. Police lights flashed too bright, almost blinding her. In a gasp, she spotted a broken picture frame, in it a portrait of her and Pete at her graduation. She picked it up and held it tight, shards of glass cutting into her skin. She had been out of town that weekend for business…

Her biggest regret was not dying.

After that day, she was completely emotionally unavailable. A blank canvas. No one could reach her. Not therapists, not friends, not the few family she had left. Her parents gave up years ago, and passed away soon after. Even at their funeral she was curt and cold… Erin never even shed a tear.

She entered her office, gently lifting a 1940's Hits record from its rack beside the door and placing it on the brown record player. She then turned the speed down, preferring to listen to it play slowly. "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy" rang around the small room. It was his favorite.

Erin stared at the hundreds of red strings that were strung from wall to wall. Faces connecting events, events connecting pictures. One end of the room was of particular interest at the moment. It had several News articles and a couple prints.

She reached up and pulled one from its respective string, smirking a little at the highlighted sections.

"_And how is Peter Parker? Is he still working for your internship?" _

"_Oh, Pete? Yeah, he's still up at the tower on weekends."_

"His name is Pete," she said to herself. "How poetic."

_Sunday May 17th, 4:29am_

_Present Day_

_4:29am(sms) Peter_: hey. can we talk? something happened.

_4:30am(spc) Tony_: Sure, kid. When and where?

_4:30am(sms) Peter: tower. asap_

_4:41am(spc) Tony: I'm here. You coming?_

_4:42am(sms) Peter: on my way rn_

Tony stood on the roof of the Tower, staring at the few stars that were twinkling through the layers of fog. He shoved his hands in his suit pockets and casually gazed up at them. "We don't look up enough, kid," he said, craning his neck up at what he believed was the Big Dipper.

Despite Peter landing softly behind him, Tony knew he was there. He could hear the quiet tap of feet on the cement.

Peter walked up behind him, footsteps slow and uneven. "I had a dream."

Tony turned to the teen and tilted his head to the side as if saying _I'm listening_. His eyes were full of understanding and empathy.

The kid was wringing his Spider-Man mask in his hands anxiously. "In it I… heard a voice. And it's not the first time I've heard it… sometimes during the day… anyway. I think that…" He shot the older man a nervous glance. "I might just take you up on that offer."

_Voices? I didn't think it was this bad… Can trauma even cause things like that?_ Tony thought. He was careful not to show how concerned and surprised he was in his features. He clapped a hand on the teen's small shoulder. "Ok, bud. I'll run it by my therapist, and I'll get back to you."

Relief flushed through his system and Peter flung himself forward and wrapped Tony in a tight hug. To the child, it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of his back. Despite his best efforts to keep it together, he started to cry raggedly.

"Woah, woah, woah Pete… what's wrong?" He pushed Peter back a little to look at him.  
"T-thank you. And I'm-I'm s-sorry, Mr. S-Stark," he stuttered between hitched breaths. "I y-yelled at-at you and… and May and Ms. P-Pepper. I j-just wanted to say-say something… but-but I-I couldn't. I'm sorry I d-didn't." Peter hugged himself stiffly, like he was trying to keep from falling apart.

Tony pulled the small child close again, rubbing his back compassionately. Like a father might. "Hey, It's fine. You've got nothing to apologize for, kiddo. Nothing." Peter just cried into the man's Black Sabbath shirt, seemingly not able to stop.

After awhile, he finally stepped back, rubbing his nose and sniffing. Most of the tears had subsided, only leaving behind puffy red eyes and Tony's wet tee. The man fluffed Peter's hair and patted his shoulder again.

"Now swing on home, kid. Get some sleep."

**A/N: How do you guys feel about the new characters? They're not oc's per say, just some random antagonists, so don't expect me to go into too much detail with them. In the first version, I was worried that they were too much like Anime villains (lol), because they had weird names, but I changed them to seem more… average. The only reason I even added names was so it was less confusing. **

**Idk. Let me know what y'all think. :)**

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter though! **

**Pronunciation guide for the few new names ;) -Cecily (Sis-silly), Aremny (Air-em-knee). haha that's basically it.**

**Vocabulary: **

_**Stature (stat-way-ray)**_**\- translates to establish.**

_**Fiducia (fi-doo-cha)- **_**translates to trust.**

_**Imperium (im-peer-ee-um)- **_**translates to control.**

_**Proditione (praw-dee-tee-own-ay)- **_**translate to betrayal.**

**NOTE: They are all latin words that can be translated to something different, but these are the descriptions I am using.**

**See you next time!**

**-katilange**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Hello! I feel like it's been a while! Schools been pretty busy, so I haven't had too much time to write. I hope you like it though. **

**As a note: I added dates and times to my story because I thought it would be easier for you and for me to keep track of.**

**As always, if you guys could refrain from using swear words in the reviews, that would be great (I totally respect your language and how you speak, so if you don't want to, that's fine, I'm just personally not a fan).**

**Any-who! Make sure to leave any suggestions/comments in the reviews, and enjoy! (please)**

_Tuesday, May 19th_

_9:01am_

_Present Day_

"I hate to pry, Tones, but why are you looking up articles on auditory hallucinations?" Rhodey said from behind his best friend. "Something you're aren't telling me?" Tony froze.

Dang. He'd been caught. _But it wasn't like I was doing anything wrong_, he reminded himself. It just wasn't his secret to tell. Peter had confided in him, and he didn't want to break that trust.

"Nothing you should be too concerned about," Tony said, closing his laptop casually and standing. "Hey, any word from the Secretary?" It was a lame attempt, and they both knew it.

"Don't change the subject, man. You gotta admit that's a little sketchy." He gestured to the laptop tucked under the other man's arm. Tony looked down at it and sighed, rubbing his face.

"It's… it's about the kid." It felt wrong telling them anything… but not confiding in his two closest friends felt worse.

"What's wrong? Is he ok?" Pepper walked from the kitchen, apparently overhearing the conversation.

"Yeah. We care about him too, Tony," Rhodey said. He folded his arms against his chest in an attempt at intimidation to draw some information from his friend.

"It's not really mine to tell, guys. What I can say- to, you know, explain- is that… the trauma in the kid is," he paused. "Worse... than I thought… I just- I just wanted to know what I could. That's why I was researching. You gotta understand, I really need to help him. It's my fault Peter's even in this mess."

"You can't keep blaming yourself for this, it'll eat you up," Pepper said softly, walking to Tony and grabbing his hand.

"And how exactly am I supposed to stop? They kidnapped him to get to _me_... I'm responsible, Pep… he's my kid," the man sighed, shoulders dropping dejectedly.

"Tony," Rhodes said in a patronizing tone. "I know you and Peter are… close. But you're not his dad, man."

"I'm close enough!" He shouted, throwing his arms up in frustration and swatting Pepper's hand away. She opened her mouth and then closed it again, knowing that if she weren't so concerned, she'd yell right back at him. "Just drop it! OK?" He turned away from them.

Silence covered the three of them like a hot blanket for a moment; they were almost afraid to speak. Neither Pepper nor Rhodey wanted to say anything else to make him more upset. The latter shook his head. "Fine… just… let me know if you need anything. We're here for you."

Tony forced his shoulders to relax. Turning away from them, he headed for the door, managing to look over his shoulder with a tired smile.

"Yeah… I know."

_Tuesday, May 19_

_2:37 pm_

_Present Day_

"Do you ever feel like… I don't know." His eyes darted around rapidly, trying to avoid looking at the small woman in the office chair.

"Go on, Peter. It's ok." She smiled slightly at him, but the rest of her demeanor stayed still and calm. She was a stark contrast to his nervous stance, with steady eye contact and folded arms. Peter didn't really notice because he was still scanning the room fervently.

The first thing he noticed when he walked in was that it was way… _different _than he expected. He had imagined creme furniture and faux green hanging plants, white walls and tan accents. Something bohemian and cool. And it was still cool, just in a crazy sort of way.

The walls were, in fact, painted all white, except for one pale yellow accent wall. Pastel blue curtains hung over large, clean windows. A big white bookshelf was placed in the center of the yellow wall, holding what he guessed was at least 70 books, and it was _very_ neatly organized. "By my favorite to least favorite," she had said happily when he walked in. But what was most odd to him was that scattered around the room were various sloths. Small stuffed ones hanging from the curtain rods, decorative wall pieces, even a large one sat in the corner. He had counted 11 so far, but Peter was almost sure that there were more.

"Do you mainly work for kids?" He asked, changing the subject. He was staring at a small sloth flower pot on her desk.

She was unfazed by his derailing of the topic and laughed a little. "No. I just really love sloths. Plus, I think my patients like them, too. Good for the soul, or whatever."

"Oh. That's cool," he said, smiling. "How many do you have? And what are their names?"

"I don't think I've ever counted, Peter. Maybe 14 or 15? And I don't name them. I leave that up to imagination."

Peter leaned on one arm and thought for a minute. Dr. Rainey just waited patiently for him, brushing her blonde bangs away from her eyes. _I like that about her_, he decided. She had not once pushed him for an answer or forced him to talk about what happened. In the short session, she just let him think, and consider, and say what he wanted, when he wanted.

"I guess I just… well. I'm supposed to be the happy one, you know? Always nice, always friendly, always a little bit of a spaz. But I don't _feel_ happy lately. Not since… anyway. I just feel like I'm faking it. All the time," he tipped his head back, sighing. "I don't know what to do about it." Peter looked at her expectantly.

"Peter, I think what's best is for you is to maybe allow yourself to be sad. You could take a day off of everything, and I mean _everything_, school, work, internships, extracurriculars." _Being a superhero_, he thought. "And just… be sad. Cry. Talk, if you feel like it. Get angry or upset or frustrated. It's not healthy to be happy all of the time. We feel emotions for a reason, you know." Dr. Rainey winked.

"Huh. I guess I never… I never really thought about that. Do you think… I could… uh… come here on that day? And talk to you?" He said nervously.

"Of course! My door is always open. You are welcome anytime, unless I'm with our favorite billionaire. Or, you know, other clients." Peter laughed.

"You're funny, for a therapist."

She mock gasped and raised a hand to her heart in exaggerated offense. "Peter! How rude! Are you making assumptions based off of a cinematic stereotype?"

Peter's ears reddened in embarrassment. He opened his mouth to apologize, but she cut him off before he spoke.

"Oh, I'm just joking. Don't worry about it," she said, the corners of her mouth lifting up. "Most people do."

A knock on the door captured her gaze. "Looks like our time is up." She actually sounded dismayed, which was strange to him. He thought _he_ was taking up _her _time, but Dr. Rainey seemed to _want_ to talk to him. "It was nice to meet you, Peter. I bet we'll become friends."

_Wednesday, May 20_

_3:02 pm_

_Present Day_

"Wait. So you're telling me that he actually _said _that? Tony?" Peter nodded, laughing too hard to reply. "We're talking about the same Tony? Tony I-pretend-to-not-care-about-anything-but-money Stark? The one who replies with snarky one-liners and refers to me only as Sid?" He snorted, and Dr. Rainey smirked at him. "Yes like the sloth. And yes, from Ice Age." This sent the child into another fit of giggles. "So what did you do?"

Peter took a couple deep breaths to stop laughing. Once he had settled down he said, "I said it back. Duh." He recalled the memory, smiling. He had been on the phone with Mr. Stark, talking about his appointment with Dr. Rainey. As they exchanged goodbyes, Tony said, "Bye Pete, love you." After a considerably awkward and shocked silence, not knowing what to do, Peter just said, "Yeah, kay. Love you too?" and then hung up quickly.

When he came into her office today after a particularly _hard_ day at school, Peter had not expected to be recalling his favorite 'Tony' moments, as they called them. But it had become like a little game for him and Dr. Rainey; they traded little stories about him. Awkward moments, funny conversations, stuff like that (at least, all she could say without breaking doctor-patient confidentiality).

It was safe to say that they had laughed a lot in the past half-hour.

"Oh, I enjoy our little talks, Peter. I really do." She grinned at him. "So," she said, changing the subject. "Since we've only got about 15 minutes until my next appointment, is there anything else you'd like to tell me?"

It was like a dam breaking. All of his struggles at school came pouring out in one large blob. How he felt like he was being watched in Chemistry, or like the walls were closing in in the halls, and how Flash simply didn't let up his childish antics or the stupid nickname. She listened intently and patiently; it took the kid 10 minutes to get it all out.

Offering her advice, Dr. Rainey gently informed him on how he could start to recognize and handle future panic attacks or feelings of paranoia.

When he left that afternoon, Peter felt really… happy. For the first time in a long time, he was looking forward to the hours of patrolling ahead of him. And it was amazing.

_Thursday, May 21_

_12:17am _

_Present Day_

"Hey, come on, we were just getting to know each other!" Peter flipped in front of the burglar, shooting a ball of webs at his feet. The man tripped, belly flopping on the dirty cement. Newspapers fluttered away from him when he fell. He groaned and rolled over, clutching his nose.

"My nose! I think you broke my nose!" Blood spilled from between his fingers.

"Technically, you broke your own nose. I'm not the one who fell." Peter plucked the stolen bag of jewelry from beside the man. "Now, I'll be taking this. The police should be here in, I don't know, five minutes?" He sauntered to the edge of the alleyway, raising his hand to shoot a web. "See ya lat-"

_CRACK._

A gunshot rang out, stopping Spider-Man short. He turned to look at the thief that was laying on the ground behind him and saw that there was a pool of crimson blood underneath him. It was starting to grow.

"Hey man! You ok?" Peter ran to him, dropping the heavy bag with a _thud_. Trying to keep the panic from his voice he asked, "Buddy, can you hear me? What happened?"

The man started to choke and sputter on his own blood, but managed, "They came… for me. I failed… and they came…" he coughed wetly. "They're coming for… you, too. They're coming for you... Parker…" the blood began to burble in his throat, splattering out onto Peter. How did he know his name? What did he mean that _they_ were coming for him? He glanced down at the man again, and just like that, Peter realized, he was dead. Gone. Another person shot right in front of him. Oh, no. The blood was on his hands. On his suit.

He stumbled backwards, gasping for air.

He had to get out of here.

_Thursday, May 21_

_1:01am_

_Present Day_

Tony bent over the blueprint, checking his math and scrawling notes here and there. He chewed on his pencil, trying to figure out what his mistake in the quadratic equation was. "X squared? Is it x squared or cubed?" He muttered to himself. "Ah! Negative. Stupid little negative."

The door crashed open suddenly, startling him.

"Jeez, didn't you ever learn to-" Tony stopped short. Peter was there. Covered in blood. Oh no, not again. He fought back a bit of nausea as images of the kid, scared and bleeding, flashed through his mind. "Pete! What happened?" He rushed to his side. "Are you alright?"

When he got close enough, Tony could see that the blood was just staining Peter's suit and fingers and that he wasn't bleeding. But the kid looked panicky and shaken. Like something bad happened.

"It's… I- he just- when he said that- they were… I tried to stop it but it just… so fast…" he mumbled incoherently.

"Slow your roll, kid. Let's get you out of the suit and cleaned up a bit, ok? How does that sound?" Peter looked dazed, but he nodded.

"Yeah… sounds… good."

After washing the blood off with cold water, Tony helped Peter change into some of Bruce's sweatpants and a hoodie. Then, he guided him to a couch to sit down. Throughout it all, the teen was silent and his eyes were slightly glazed over in shock.

When they were seated, Tony started, "Let's try this again, bud. What happened?"

"I was just… just patrolling. Prevented a robbery. Little jewelry place on 12th… the theif. I stopped him… tripped him with some web…" Peter stared into the wall opposite him. "I was about to leave… my hand was up… pointed at the sky. I remember the stars. I could see the stars." He shuddered suddenly, breaking eye-contact with the wall.

"There was a loud sound. Too loud. I knew that sound from when… I knew it was a gunshot. For a second… I thought I was hit. But it was from behind me. The burglar. He was shot. Oh, gosh. He was shot. There was so much blood." Peter turned slowly to Tony in horror. "I tried to stop it, I swear. I tried. You have to believe me, Mr. Stark. I tried."

"I believe you, Peter. Of course I do."

He seemed to find little reassurance in those words. "He told me that… that _they_ got him. That he failed and so he was killed. H-he told me… that… they were coming for me. And he said my name…" Peter seemed lost in his memory, almost mesmerized by the details. "He said Parker. 'They're coming for you, Parker,' he said. Don't let them get me… oh no. Please don't let them get me." He brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them tightly.

"Don't worry, Pete. I won't. Promise. You got me? Promise," Tony said firmly. A quiet moment filled the room and an unsaid sentence hung in the air between them like a chandelier.

_That's what you said last time._

**A/N: Haha, it's late so I'll keep it short. Hope you lovelies enjoyed! Thanks again! 3**

**-katilange**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Hey this chapter is short, I've had a really busy week. :) I wanted to get what I had out to you guys though. **

**As always, if you guys could refrain from using swear words in the reviews, that would be great (I totally respect your language and how you speak, so if you don't want to, that's fine, I'm just personally not a fan).**

**Any-who, make sure to leave any comments/suggestions in the reviews, and enjoy!**

_About a maid I'll sing a song_

_Sing rickety-tickety-tin_

_About a maid I'll sing a song_

_Who didn't have her family long_

_Not only did she do them wrong_

_She did ev'ryone of them in, them in_

_She did ev'ryone of them in_

-The Irish Ballad

_Thursday, May 21_

_1:11am_

_Present Day_

"You didn't have to _shoot_ him, Kaylee! I had it under control," the fat man whined, stepping out from behind a large dumpster.

"I'm an _assassin_, it's what I do. Besides, it was getting boring!" She slung the long, narrow gun case across her lithe body. Her white mask reflected menacingly in the low light.

"Two more seconds and I would have handled it. _Two more seconds!_" He angrily shoved the syringe back in his case with the rest of his tools. "I never get to have any fun…"

"Shut up, already. You're giving me a headache." Axel stood leaning on the wall of a building. "Let's go. If The Irish is kept waiting, she'll have our heads."

'The Irish' was a nickname that they gave their mysterious boss. She never revealed anything personal, so they had to identify her by her most defining feature: her accent. None of them would ever call her that to her face, though.

Kaylee was about to quip back but she was interrupted by a clear, calm voice.

"Going so soon?" A woman in a black jumpsuit stood at the entrance of the alley, pointing a gun in each hand at them. Kaylee recognized her as Natasha Romanoff, The Black Widow. She groaned inwardly. This was going to be about three times harder.

"Natasha! Wow, I'm a big fan! Who knew I'd get to meet you so soon!" Kaylee called sarcastically, putting a hand on her hip. "It really is an honor."

Nat couldn't _see_ the people's faces behind their masks, but she could almost feel all three of them smirking. "Do you have a pen? I could sign your gun case." Through the small slits in her disguised face, Natasha saw the small woman roll her eyes.

"You know, as much fun as I'm having, we really need to go. It was _so_ nice to meet you." Kaylee moved to leave but stopped when a bullet fired in front of her feet, making sparks on the ground. She rolled her eyes again. "Let me guess, you're not going to let us leave."

"Why did you kill that man?" Nat said, gesturing with her gun to the body. She didn't have much time before the police arrived, so she'd have to question them fast.

"Why not?"

"He was already caught! There was no reason to."

"Oh, _please. _Like you haven't killed an innocent man."

"Who do you work for?" Natasha said, largely unaffected by the lady's jab at her.

"Santa Claus."

"What do you want with Peter?"

"What makes you think this has anything to do with that _child_?" She almost sounded disgusted, which surprised Nat. She couldn't think of anyone, _anyone_, that was disgusted by Peter. He was, genuinely, the nicest kid. It made her angry.

"_What,_" she growled, "Do you _want _with Peter?"

"Ugh. I'm done with this. Axel, it's your turn." The big, muscular man stood up straight, face lighting up, and rubbed his hands together. The smaller, pudgier guy scuttled over behind him, followed by the girl.

"What are you doing?" Nat gripped her weapon harder. No one answered. The man, Axel, kept rubbing his massive hands against each other. To her surprise they started to glow a deep red, which then grew brighter and brighter. She couldn't help but squint now. "What the he-" A bright flash blinded her momentarily and she fell to her hands and knees, the hard cement scraping her palms; her guns clattered on the ground.

Bright spots flashed across Natasha's vision. Fumbling for her phone, she managed to find Tony's contact and press call.

"What's up?" He answered, whispering.

"Tony," she said urgently. "I'm at the site. I can hardly see, but I think they got away."

"What?! How?"

"Stark! Backup!" She rubbed her eyes furiously, trying desperately to scan her surroundings.

"Right… on it."

_Thursday, May 21_

_1:42am_

_Present Day_

"So they're… enhanced? I thought we took care of all of… those people…" Clint said from his perch on top of the couch. They all gave a collective sigh and looked at Peter, who was asleep on the couch, his head resting in Tony's lap. His brown curls were splayed across his face and they lifted occasionally when he breathed.

"We did," Steve said, brow creasing in concentration. "Or at least I thought we did."

"Obviously not," Nat stated. "Because one of them just gave me a record-breaking migraine."

"Did you get _anything_ out of them, Nat. Anything?" Tony finally spoke. He looked down at Peter anxiously, then back up at her. His eyes pleaded with her.

"Yes. Before I showed up, I caught the end of one of their sentences. The bigger guy's; I think his name was Axel. Anyway, he said 'If The Irish is kept waiting, she'll have our heads.'" The group shared puzzled expressions. "In all my... career..., I haven't heard of anyone called 'The Irish', Ireland or otherwise." She looked to the corner of the room. "What about you, Bucky?"

His eyes widened in surprise. "Me?" She nodded. "Well…now that I think about it... I was on a mission once… for… anyway… and there was this town. I think it was called… Marfa? Yeah. Marfa, Texas. It was a tiny city only around 2,000 people, nothing west of it for 500 miles. It was a weird place."

Bucky shook his head. "Man, rumors flew fast down there. And one rumor, it was about a girl. She was an Irish immigrant, or so they said, who basically ran the city. The people would talk about how she scared the mayor into giving up more control, or something. Pretty much what happened was one person overheard another call her 'The Irish' and that spread like wildfire."

"So why don't we know about this place? Or her?" Tony said softly, trying not to wake the sleeping child.

"_No one_ would ever know about it, I mean the town is in the middle of nowhere."

"So where-"

"Bucky?" Peter whispered groggily. He was starting to wake up. Quickly, Bucky walked over and crouched in front of the kid.

"Hey, Peter. Go back to sleep now, ok? We'll chat tomorrow." Nat and the rest of the team, except Steve, were shocked at how soft and soothing the man's voice was. It was almost tender. They had never really met his mellow side.

"Ok. Tomorrow...," Peter said, not even opening his eyes. The child curled up against Tony's side tighter and was soon breathing deeply again. They all relaxed, hardly realizing they were tense.

This kid. This strong, brave, amazing kid had been through so much. They all had come to love him as a brother, a nephew, or even a son. He had helped each one of them grow… to be better. He pushed them to be better.

"We have to keep him safe this time," Clint said quietly, speaking everyone's thoughts. "We have to."

**A/N: AH! I'm sorry it's so short! The reason I put it out is because I thought the story progressed (even just a little). I hope you enjoyed what I did write. ;) Love you all, and see you next time!**

**-katilange**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Hey! It's been awhile! There are some new followers, so hello! You are all looking very lovely today (yes, you)! I've had very little time to write (most of my days are taken up by Crash Course videos so I don't fail Bio), but I promise what I have written, I spent a lot of time on! **

**As always, if you guys could refrain from using swear words in the reviews, that would be great (I totally respect your language and how you speak, so if you don't want to, that's fine, I'm just personally not a fan).**

**Any-who! Enjoy the chapter and be sure to leave any comments/reviews below! Love you guys ;)**

_Thursday, May 21_

_2:32am_

_Present Day_

_One morning in a fit of pique_

_Sing rickety-tickety-tin_

_One morning in a fit of pique_

_She drowned her father in the creek_

_The water tasted bad for a week_

_And we had to make do with gin, with gin_

_We had to make do with gin_

-The Irish Ballad

"I'm sorry. Did I mishear you?"

"Uh. No ma'am." Kaylee shifted nervously, glancing to her team for support. They gave her none.

"You said _his name_," She pointed to Axel and her voice went deathly quiet. "_And. You mentioned the child_. Am I right?"

"Ye-yes…"

"Follow me. Leave your things," she said curtly and with that, The Irish clicked out of the room. Kaylee tried to catch someone's eyes. She tried to plead for help. They kept their gazes firmly attached to the floorboards. _Traitors. _She followed her boss out of the door.

A flash of shiny red hair was the last thing they ever saw of Lucia Morgan. Or, as they knew her, Kaylee.

When Irish came back, she was drying her hands on a clean, white towel.

"It has come to my attention that we need rules." She moved to the front of the table where they were seated in silence, and traveled back and forth across the floor.

"One. You are not to give away _any_ information regarding the team. Even fake names. Nod if you understand."

They all nodded. "Good. Two. You are _not_ to convey any emotion about any of the targets. Including Peter Parker." She stopped. "_Nod if you understand._" They nodded quickly. "Very well. That is all for now; you are dismissed. Continue with missions as planned; Kaylee will not be joining you."

They stayed seated, frozen, looking blankly around at one another.

"_You are dismissed!" _Her voice slammed against the walls, bouncing back at them harshly. Leo, Cecily, Mark, and Axel rose hastily and ran from the room.

"Idiots," she muttered. Then her voice grew into a tsunami, drowning the room with blind fury. "_IDIOTS!_"

_Thursday, May 21_

_10:02am_

_Present Day_

Peter's soft brown eyes were fixed on an apartment building outside the window. He couldn't seem to look away. _What if that man... John Wilson_, he reminded himself. _John Wilson. What if he lived there? In that room. What if he was happy? If he hadn't died... would he go home? Scratch his dog behind it's ears… kiss his girlfriend… _

_What if I had saved him?_

"Hey kid. Can I sit?" Peter didn't look away, he just nodded. Tony plopped down on the couch next to him and ruffled his mousy curls. "How are you doing, bud?" The kid's frame began to tremble. He turned around and hugged Tony tightly.

"I'm sorry. I am so sorry… I couldn't… I'm sorry…" Peter's voice broke, but he didn't cry. He was tired of crying. "You don't think they… blame me… do you?" He asked, pulling away and looking back at the building.

"Who?"

"Mr. WIlson's girlfriend… his family… I mean," he tore his eyes away from the window, anger now painting his features. "John wasn't a bad guy. He wasn't a thief. He was an accountant from Brooklyn, for _crying_ out loud!" Peter stood and marched around, his feet slapping the hardwood beneath him. "Why? Why did he know my name? _How _did he know it? And why would he steal from that store? He had so much to lose! And it was like he _knew_ he would get caught!"

He was on a rampage now, charging back and forth in front of Tony. All the thoughts that had been stirring in Peter's head were pouring out, and he couldn't stop until he finished.

"Why me? Who's coming for me? Is it like Ibrahim or is it worse?" Despite the anger, he cringed at the thought of someone being _worse_ than Ibrahim. "Mr. Wilson said that he failed… what does that mean? Was he hired? Forced? I just- UGH!"

Tony was a statue, waiting for his kid to finish before he spoke. He didn't have to wait long, for it appeared that Peter was running out of steam. He collapsed back onto the couch, letting out a breath and one final statement. "I want this to end."

Mr. Stark put an arm around him. "Me too, bud. Me too…" he leaned back and tipped his chin up to the ceiling. "I promise we'll try and figure this whole thing out, ok?"

"Ok…"

"And no."

"What?" Peter tilted his head at the older man, who's eyes were closed.

"I don't think they blame you at all." The corner of his mouth lifted up. "Not at all."

_Friday, May 22_

_12:30am_

_Present Day_

Unfortunately, Peter's overactive imagination, combined with guilt, was not reassured by Mr. Stark's words. The dream started out simple enough. He was stopping a robbery, like he was normally doing on a Thursday night, and the thief was on the ground. Peter had tripped him with some web.

_Wait_, he realized. He had been here before. He was standing at the edge of that alleyway, jewelry bag in hand. This was John Wilson. He was about to get shot. Oh gosh. Peter had to warn him. He jerked his head back to the man and started to sprint. He had to get there before-

CRACK!

The gunshot was distinct and final. _You're too late_.

Then, he was back at the end of the alley. Jewelry bag in hand. Turning to John, running to warn him, _crack__**.**_ Blood on his fingers, seeping through his suit. Panic coursing through his veins. The man is saying something.

Back at the beginning. Bag in hand. Turning to him, running, _crack_. Blood on his hands. Panic in him. Words being said.

The start. Bag. Turning, running, _CRACK_. Blood. Panic. Words. Over and over.

_**CRACK. **_

It won't stop it keeps going it won't stop I can't get there I can't warn him he is bleeding no he said my name he is bleeding he is dying it won't stop there's someone else here I can't save him it won't stop _I can't save him there is blood he is dying IT WON'T STOP-_

"_Make it stop!"_

"Peter! Peter! Wake up!" Bucky's strong arms seized the small child's shoulders. He jostled him roughly, not wanting to hurt him but also desperate to pull him out of the nightmare. "Come on, snap out of it!"

Peter fought him, his super strength sending Bucky flying onto the floor. "Get _off of me_!" He continued to writhe and scream on the couch. The super soldier jumped up and leapt back to the child, this time using his metal arm to try and secure him.

It was then when Nat dashed into Peter's room, alerted by the yelling. Naturally, she had her guns drawn. "What's happening?" She shouted over his cries.

"A nightmare! Get Stark in here; he'll be able to calm him down!" She nodded and ran from the room.

Bucky grabbed both of Peter's hands with his metal one, and tried to press them down against his chest. "_Stop! Get off! I have to warn him!_"

"_Peter. _Listen to me. It's Bucky, remember? Remember all those magnets you stuck to my arm?" The child's strength began to lessen, so Bucky kept going. "I keep them all in my bedside table, right next to me. When you were gone, I looked at those magnets _every _day. You said we were gonna get more. Come on, kid, don't you want to get some more?"

Peter's body seemed to release all a sudden, a large breath escaping his mouth. His eyes cracked open, fear spilling out of them. "Bucky? What- where am I?"

The super-soldier sighed in relief and pulled his hands off of Peter's arms. "You're in your room. At the Tower."

"But the alley- John… there was a gunshot… I could have sworn…"

"It was a nightmare. It's over now, I promise."

"I saw someone else."

"What?" Bucky folded his arms, closing himself off again.

"There was someone else there… it was a woman. She was short, maybe five feet at the most, and she really… bright red hair. I think…" he trailed off.

"What?" Bucky encouraged.

"I think she was the one who… shot Mr. Wilson."

_Friday, May 22_

_6:01am_

_Present Day_

_6 o'clock morning newscast, with Tammy Anne and John Marckle._

"Tammy Anne here with breaking news. A body was discovered in Crocheron Park's small body of water by a young couple on their morning walk. The couple is being held in questioning now, but are not believed to have committed the crime."

Tony and Natasha glanced at each other, sharing a silent conversation. They had both heard what Peter said to Bucky in that room. Nat knew that the girl had given away some details during their encounter.

She probably gave away too much, but Nat thought it was even more reckless to kill her. That confirmed their suspicions about "The Irish". They turned back to the TV.

"Detectives released the following information on the body. The body is female, with a slight build and bright red hair. She has brown eyes and is suspected to be American. An autopsy will be held to discover the cause of death. Anyone with knowledge about this person should call the number at the bottom of the screen. More on this later."

The television clicked off.

"I guess we're headed to Texas," Nat said.

"Who doesn't love a good road trip," Tony sighed.

**A/N: Sorry it's pretty short, but I really hope you liked it! Be prepared for more to come! I want the next chapter to be pretty long, so it'll take me longer (like a couple weeks). See y'all later 3 ;)**

**-katilange **


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Hello my loves, it's been a hot minute, and for that: I'm sorry. I wanted to take time to make this chapter the best it could be, and also give y'all a little bit more content. **

**As always, if you guys could refrain from using swear words in the reviews, that would be great (I totally respect your language and how you speak, so if you don't want to, that's fine, I'm just personally not a fan).**

**Any-who, make sure to leave any comments/suggestions in the reviews. Enjoy! 3**

_And when at last the police came by_

_Sing rickety-tickety-tin_

_And when at last the police came by_

_Her little pranks she did not deny_

_To do so she would have had to lie_

_And lying, she knew, was a sin, a sin_

_Lying, she knew, was a sin_

\- The Irish Ballad

_Tuesday, May 19_

_1:32pm _

_3 days ago_

Peter sat on the dirty floor of the janitor's closet, rubbing his arm. It was burning, to say the least; a thousand fire ants crawling up and down under his sleeve. He hadn't worn a short sleeve tee since he discovered it was still injured. He was tired of always being the one that needed protecting.

Studying the mop in front of him, Peter was equal parts disgusted and fascinated. _How is that supposed to _clean _something? _

"It may not look like it, but the old thing does a pretty good job." Peter startled at the voice, but relaxed when he saw that it was the robust janitor standing in the doorway. A thought tickled his mind… had he said that out loud? _It must have been one of those times that you say what you're thinking without realizing it, _he rationalized.

"Hey, have I seen you before?" Peter stood, tugging at the cuffs of his shirt.

"Well, I am the janitor. And you came in here that one time…" The man stood there awkwardly. This was probably the longest conversation he'd ever had with a student. Peter did remember seeing him, though. He'd asked if Peter was ok.

"Normally, I would send you to the office for skipping class. But between you and me… come here whenever," he said, shifting out of the doorway so that Peter could leave the small closet.

"T-thanks… uh… what was your name?"

"John." Peter felt a flash of panic; Blood on his suit, running, a gunshot. "John Aremny. But call me John. Most kids can't pronounce my last name," John smiled uncomfortably.

"Oh, yeah. Ok. I better get to class. Uh… thank you… John." It almost hurt for him to say the name. He brushed past the large guy before he could get any more anxious. Biology was going to be a nightmare.

_Friday, May 22_

_9:13am_

_Present Day_

"Yes, May. Me, Steve, Nat and Bucky. Bruce is away." Tony grabbed his duffel and swung it over his shoulder. "No, someone will be here." He gestured to Nat that he was coming. "Clint." He paused while she talked. "Well, yeah, but this is the safest place for him while we're gone. Yeah. Ok, bye."

He shoved his phone in his back pocket and headed to the door. "Let's go. Happy will get Pete from school, and he'll stay here with Clint for the weekend."

Nat nodded. "And we're sure the Tower is secure?"

"Come on Nat, I'm offended. This place is locked up tighter than the Pentagon." She gave him a look. "It is! And especially this weekend."

Clint, who was perched on the counter, gave a mock gasp. "And I'm here!"

"You won't let him out of your sight," she said, ignoring his playful quip. "Right?"

He sighed dramatically, but saluted her. "Yes, ma'am." She rolled her eyes.

Tony put a hand on Natasha's shoulder. "Come on, let's go. And you," he narrowed his eyes at Clint. "What she said. And keep us updated. If he even scrapes his knee, text me."

"On it, boss." This earned an eye roll from Tony as well. From his place in the corner, Bucky chuckled.

"Ok then, we're off. FRIDAY?"

"Yes?"

"I want you to send all the live security footage directly to my phone until I get back."

"On it, boss," she said, echoing Clint.

With that, they headed out. Tony was trying to shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. They had taken every measure… and he just had to trust his friend to watch after Peter. He shot one last text to Pete before they hopped on the Jet, explaining that Happy was going to pick him up.

"It's going to be okay," he whispered, as if trying to convince himself. "He's going to be fine."

_Friday, May 22_

_8:08pm_

_Present Day_

"So you do this every night?"

Peter glanced at Clint from beneath his mask. That's right. Only Tony, Natasha, and Bucky had been with him on patrols.

"Do what?"

"Swing around, save _everyone. _I mean, that lady only had to cross the street. Someone else would have taken care of it."

"That's true. But I can't only be a hero when the entire world needs it. And if I can be a hero to one person, that's good enough for me," he said, shrugging his shoulders. Peter plopped down at the edge of the building they were standing on and pulled off his mask.

Clint just stared at him until Peter was squirming under his gaze. He didn't like it when people stared, and he couldn't help but wonder why. Did he do something wrong? Was Clint mad at him for walking the old lady across the street? "What?"

"You're an amazing kid, you know that? Never change."

He opened his mouth to say thanks, but a loud scream interrupted their conversation. Peter snapped into action, jerking his mask on and jumping from the building. He did it so fast that Clint hardly had time to react. "Hey! Wait for me," he called, scrambling down to the sidewalk below. An image of Tony and Nat glaring at him rushed into his mind. "I'm serious, kid! Wait up!"

Clint plunked down behind him, grabbing an arrow and nocking it. Peter was crouched in a fighting position, eyes darting back and forth and finally landing on a purse in the middle of the cement. It's contents were scattered around. Dollars were fluttering across the ground and a tube of bright red lipstick was rolling towards them.

It was quiet. "Too quiet," Peter breathed, saying what they were both thinking. "Hello? Is anyone here?" He slipped further into the alley. The dark shadows began to blur into the light, and he felt lucky he had enhanced vision. The rest of his senses were going crazy, and he couldn't figure out why. Clint crept after him, raising his sleek black bow in caution.

"Hello?" Peter called again, his voice cutting the thick silence in two. A small circle of light near the back of the brick hallway grabbed his attention. He cocked his head to the side in confusion. It began to grow gradually until it was the size of a golf ball, when it began to widen rapidly.

Clint, sensing danger, dashed forward in front of the kid and drew back his bow. "Peter! Swing back to the tower and find Pepper!"

"What? Why?"

"Just go!"

"But I can't-"

"_Go_!"

He staggered backward and shot a web up, shielding his eyes from the sensitive light, and flipped away toward the Tower. Peter tried to ignore the bright flash and loud _snap_ that sounded behind him, he just kept swinging forward.

The air whooshed and curved around him, sending goosebumps up his arms and legs. His senses told him that someone was following him, so he fought the growing pit of guilt and swung faster. Peter hoped that it was Clint behind him, but he wasn't going to stop and check. _Mr. Barton can handle himself,_ he thought. _At least I hope so_.

What even was that bright flash? A person? A robot or something? He didn't know. He needed to get back to the Tower; find Pepper, like Clint said. The urgency of that thought pushed him to go faster. His arm was beginning to go numb.

"Karen!" Peter said as the large building finally came into view.

"Yes, Peter?"

"What floor is Ms. Potts on?"

"One moment." There was a pause and some beeping noises in his suit. "She is seated in the penthouse floor. I recommend landing there." Strokes of blue outlined where the section of the tower that jutted out was.

"Thanks." With one last pull, he yanked himself onto the landing, less gracefully than normal, and sprinted inside. He turned behind him and slammed the glass french door closed. He heard Pepper gasp in surprise from the couch.

"FRIDAY! Activate Barn Door protocol!"

"Of course, Mr. Parker." Thick metal sheets slid over the windows, blocking the bright lights of the city. He pulled off his mask as relief coursed through his shoulders, and he collapsed down against the wall, breathing heavily.

He smiled over at Pepper weakly. "Sorry, Ms. Potts. I didn't mean to scare you." She was already on her way over to him.

"It's fine, Peter. What's wrong?" She sat down next to him. "Where's Clint? Didn't he go out with you?" He cringed and pushed a hand through his mop of curls.

"We were making rounds, the usual, and we heard a scream. When we checked it out, all we saw was a purse on the ground and a little…" he through his hands up. "I don't know… a light? It was small, but then it got bigger. Mr. Barton told me to come back here and find you… I'm sorry I left him…"

"Peter, honey, it's OK. He told you to. Did you see anything else?"

"A really bright light… and I felt like someone was following me. That's why I rushed in here so fast," he sighed.

"Hey, we'll figure this out. I promise. I'll call Tony and see what he says," she said, standing and heading to her phone on the counter.

Peter rested his head against the metal, closing his eyes. "Okay… okay." Even though he had been far away, the light still burned beneath his eyelids, spots dancing back and forth. "Hey… Pepper?"

"Yeah?" Her soft red hair swung as she turned to him.

"Uh… never mind."

She nodded and smiled.

_Friday, May 22_

_8:36pm_

_Present Day_

"Boss. The Barn Door protocol has been activated by Mr. Parker," FRIDAY called from his glasses.

"What? Why?" Nat looked at him from the wheel with concern. She mouthed, _What's going on?_ He shrugged.

"I don't know. Ms. Pepper will be contacting you shortly."

As if on cue, his phone rang. "Pep? What's happening?"

"We have a problem…"

"Is Peter ok?"

"Yes. He's with me now." Tony sighed in relief. "That's not it. Something happened while they were out patrolling, Clint told him to leave and come back here, and now we don't know where he is."

"Really? He can't have gone too far," he said, glancing over at Nat again.

"Tony. This is serious. I don't know what to do! We're locked up in here, and I don't know what to send to find him!"

"Calm down, Pep. Tell FRIDAY to send one of the suits to check it out. And let Bruce and Happy know the sitch; they can help."

She took a breath. "I'm sorry. I'll do that. So should we stay here until you get back?"

"Yes. And don't let Pete go on patrols. At least till we get a location on Barton."

"Ok. I'll do that. Thank you… uh, here, you should talk to Peter."

There was a rustle on the other side of the phone. "Mr Stark?" Tony smiled at his kid's voice.

"Hi, bud."

"Hey… can you tell Nat that I'm sorry… for leaving Mr. Barton behind? I didn't want to…"

"Of course, Pete, but there's nothing to be sorry about. Leave it to us; he'll be back before you know it."

"Thanks… I'll talk to you later?"

"Yep. I'll call when we're done here."

"Okay… thanks. Bye."

"Later, spiderling."

He clicked end and leaned back, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his finger. "This is a mess."

"What?" Bucky asked from the backseat.

"It's Barton. He's MIA. Apparently him and Peter came across something dangerous when they were out, and Clint made him leave. They haven't heard from him since."

Nat slapped the steering wheel with the palm of her hand and cursed. "That idiot."

"But Peter's fine?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, I think so. We'll have to finish up here quick so we can get back."

Nat nodded, staring out at the dark road ahead of them. Her hands gripped the wheel tightly. They had decided to drive into Marfa when Bucky pointed out that it would be really suspicious if a jet landed in the middle of town. But, it was taking longer than they thought.

"Jeez, how big is this state?"

Nat smirked. "Just another half hour, buddy. Hang in there."

_Saturday, May 23_

_12:17am_

_Present Day_

The gritty dirt crunched underneath Tony's sneakers when they finally stepped out of the car. He slammed the door shut, glancing around at the dark countryside. Nat walked around the car and stood beside him. They could only make out the faint silhouettes of dark houses.

"Where should we start?" Steve said with his arms folded. They all turned to Bucky.

"Oh," he said, surprised. "Yeah. They said that she lived in the very center of town… right next to city hall."

The group made their way onward through the empty streets, Tony's thumb above a button to activate his suit. Nat held her guns up, Bucky as well, and Steve had his shield strapped to his arm. They were all tense, locked up and ready in case something happened.

"Well, this is an evil lair if I ever saw one," Tony said when they reached the center of town. He wasn't wrong. The house was two stories tall, with a pointed, saggy roof that looked like it was one rainstorm away from collapsing. Several cloudy windows with yellowing edges lined the rusty brick wall, giving it the appearance of an old man smiling.

Several attempts had been made to make the place look less terrifying; flower pots lined the uneven path up to the crooked front door. Unfortunately, the plants inside them were shriveled and droopy.

"All it's missing is a creepy old man telling us to get out," Tony deadpanned.

"Do you think this is it?" Steve asked.

"I mean, come on," he waved his hand at the house. "How could it _not_ be?"

Steve ignored him, looking to Bucky for an answer.

"I guess we'll find out," he said and took a confident step forward.

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Also thank you guys so much for 50 followers! **

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**See you next time!**

**-katilange**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: It's been fall break for me, so I've actually had time to write! Does that mean I did? Not necessarily, but hey. What can I say?**

**I tried to make this chapter a little bit longer, so I hope you like it. :)**

**As always, if you guys could refrain from using swear words in the reviews, that would be great (I totally respect your language and how you speak, so if you don't want to, that's fine, I'm just personally not a fan).**

**Make sure to leave any suggestions/comments in the reviews below! Enjoy!**

_She set her sister's hair on fire_

_Sing rickety-tickety-tin_

_She set her sister's hair on fire_

_And as the smoke and flame rose high'are_

_Danced around the funeral pyre_

_Playin' a violin, -olin_

_Playin' a violin_

-The Irish Ballad

_Friday, May 22_

_8:50pm_

_1 day ago_

"Just go!"

The light scalded Clint's eyes, even as they were closed. He shot one arrow blindly, but then dropped his bow to guard his face with his arms. Something rammed into his back, and he fell to the ground. The rough cement slapped against his knees, most likely leaving bruises.

Clint felt a whoosh of air blow past him. Someone had probably chased after Peter… which wasn't good. He had to hope that Pete would make it back. He had to hope that he bought the kid a little time.

"I thought you said _all_ the Avengers were leaving," a woman's voice said from above him. "Clearly, this one's still here."

"I'm sorry, did _you_ want to intelligence? Yeah, that's what I thought." This voice was male, deep and gravelly.

Clint groaned and tried to stand, but he still couldn't see anything.

"Look, he's alive," the woman said.

"Do you think he knows anything?"

A large thunk sounded to his right, like someone landing.

"Did you get the kid?" She asked.

"No." This man had a smoother, calmer undertone to his words. "I apologize."

"It's fine," she sighed. "Well… we've got a few hours. Maybe we should see if he..." Clint felt a foot nudge his leg, "Knows something useful."

"I doubt it…" the Calm guy said. "He doesn't seem that important."

"Hey," Clint managed weakly. "That's not very nice."

"He speaks," Lady-in-Charge (that's what he decided to call her) said. "So, then. Do you know something?"

"Even if I did…" he said, finally dragging himself to his hands and knees. "Why would I tell you?"

"How noble," she said sarcastically. "Haven't heard that one before."

"Maybe we should kill him," Gravel Guy said.

"Hey!"

"I don't want to risk it," Calm Guy says. "We don't want to get dumped in a river." _Dumped in a river? What does that mean?_

Clint struggled to open his eyes, but every bit of light was agonizing. If he could just get his bow. _Stand up! Get up!_

He slowly reached his hand out, trying to find the cold metal handle of his weapon. The people were still chatting around him, and he hoped they wouldn't notice. Suddenly, Clint's fingers brushed against the steel; he had to physically contain the shout for joy.

He took a few deep breaths to steady himself. Channeling all the energy he could muster into his legs, he jumped up quickly and pulled back his bow, an arrow already drawn. His brain automatically gathered auditory clues to where they were standing, and he shot three times.

Three times to where he prayed their feet were.

It was only when Clint hear three cries of pain that he knew that his arrows found their targets. The woman gave a frustrated scream and then his shoulder was on fire. The echo of a gunshot rang through the small space. But adrenaline had kicked in; Clint knew he had to escape.

Using his mental image of the alleyway, he stumbled out of it and started running. Ignoring the yells of alarm and annoyance from the people he bumped into, he ran his hands along the wall, trying to find somewhere to hide.

Clint's hand fell into open space. He had found another alley. Staggering desperately forward, he reached his arm out, feeling for something, anything, to hide in. Or by. Or under, or behind, or beneath. Just _something._

_And that,_ Clint thought to himself, _is the story of how I ended up bleeding out and half-blind in a dumpster on a chilly Friday evening._

_Friday, May 22_

_11:43pm_

_1 day ago_

Peter paced back and forth. _What happened to Clint? Is he kidnapped? Hurt? Dead? _He didn't want to think about it, but he couldn't help the intrusive thoughts. They crawled into his head like worms; eating away until the apple was rotten.

Pepper sat at the table, watching him. She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped as her phone dinged. She read it and gasped.

"Peter!"

"What? What's wrong?" He ran over to her, and sat across from her at the table.

"One of the suits found Clint! He-" she choked. "He's in a dumpster. On 15th."

Peter cursed, which was weird for him. "I have to go get him."

"Take this," she took off her watch and placed it in his hand. "Just tap the screen three times to call backup. And please be careful."

He nodded and pulled his mask back on. He told FRIDAY to unlock the windows and swung out. Pepper put her head in her hands, hoping. One could even say she was praying. Praying that they would be alright.

_Saturday, May 23_

_12:01am_

_16 minutes ago_

Peter landed softly on the corner of 15th street, hands shaking. "Karen," he mumbled. "Where is he?"

"Heat signature detected to your right, Peter." If she wasn't an AI, Peter would say she almost sounded solemn.

He scrambled toward the first large metal container he laid his eyes on. "Mr. Barton! Clint!" Peter cried, throwing it open. Nothing. He ran to the one next to it. "Clint! Oh my-"

Clint's hand was pressed against his shoulder, and thick crimson oozed between his fingers. He face was streaked with dirt and grime, and his eyes were sealed shut. Air slipped through his lips in labored heaves, but at least he was still breathing.

"Oh my gosh, Mr. Barton! Just a second, I'll get you out of there." Clint made a groaning noise in response.

"Karen! Deploy parachute." It popped out, and he ripped it off, tearing the nylon fabric into strips. He gently removed Clint's hand from his shoulder and tied several strips around the wound. Peter cringed as the man growled in pain.

He ignored the tingling in his arm and picked Clint up relatively easily, bridal style, hopping out of the putrid dumpster. _It'll take 8 washes to get the smell out_, he thought. Adjusting his grip so that he could swing and carry Clint back to the tower, he hopped away.

"Call Ms. Potts."

"On it."

She picked up instantly. "Yes? Peter! What is it?"

"Is Mr. Banner there?" He said in between swings.

"Yes, he just got here. It's loud, where are you?"

"On my way. Tell Bruce to get his medical stuff out. Clint's hurt," he glanced down. "Pretty bad."

"Peter...cutting... I can't... saying. Get out of... dangerous," static crackled into his ears.

"Ms. Potts? Pepper? I can't hear you! What do you mean dangerous?"

"FRIDAY… sending some... wait-" the line clicked off.

"I'm sorry, we've lost connection," Karen said.

_Saturday, May 23_

_12:17am_

_Present_

Bucky had only taken two steps when Tony's phone rang, cutting through the silent night. They all looked at him.

"Sorry, it's Pep. Gotta take it." He shrugged and answered. "Yeah?"

"Tony! You need to get back here, I don't care how, I don't care about your mission. Come back _now._"

"Woah, woah, woah, what's wrong?"

"It's Peter… he went to find Clint and-"

"What? You let him go alone?"

"Shut up for a second! I sent him with my watch. Anyway, he called me a few minutes ago and said he was on his way back with Clint. But FRIDAY told me that he was swinging through an area of detected threats, and I tried to tell him but the phone cut off! He's not back yet, Tony..."

Tony swore loudly, catching the attention of Nat and the others. Steve gave him a curious look.

'We can't get back for at least another four hours, at least, Pep." He ran a hand through his hair. "Get FRIDAY to send one of the army to scan the city. And keep me on the phone."

He pulled up footage from the tower, selecting the Penthouse camera. Pepper was pacing around the room, a glass of wine clutched in her fingers. Bruce was also there, hovering over her shoulder. He opened his mouth.

"Tony, it's Bruce here. What can I do?"

"Yeah, yeah. I've got you guys pulled up on my phone… listen, until you know where they are, don't leave. We have to make sure he's not… on his way back or something." Tony spotted a rock close by and collapsed down on it, head in his hands. "Let me explain everything to the team."

When he was done talking, Nat cursed and kicked the ground. A small plume of dust rose up where her black leather boot hit. She folded her arms and said, "Well, what are we supposed to do?"

"Tony?" Steve asked.

But he wasn't listening. All he could hear was a laugh. Peter's laugh.

"_Jeez, Mr. Stark, how do you do this all night?" Peter leaned back, folding his lean legs underneath him. The project he was working on lay scattered in front of them, currently in pieces._

"_Uh… lots of coffee?"_

_Peter laughed. "There is no way you're human."_

"_You're one to talk!"_

"_Hey that's not fair, I'm human! Just, enhanced," he said indignantly, but a smile played on his lips._

_Tony shook his head, chuckling._

"_Hey Tony?"_

"Tony? Tony!" He zoned back in, shaking his head.

"What?"

"She said, what are we supposed to do?" This came from Steve. His slightly insistent tone annoyed him. It was the last straw. Tony jumped up, stress and anxiety plowing into him like a freight train.

"I don't know! Ok? I don't know! I'm tired of not being able to protect him! The people I love keep getting hurt and I don't know what to do about it! So you tell me," he jabbed a finger at Steve. "What _are_ we supposed to do?"

Natasha stared at him, her brow furrowing in a firm, angry line. "We care too, Stark. Clint? Clint is my best friend! And Peter?" She softened. "You know how I feel about him. So please, _let's get our act together_ and stop these-" she looked at Steve and smirked. "Bad guys." Tony's anger dissipated almost as quickly as it had come. He was like that. Furious one moment, calm the next.

"Give me a minute to think," Tony said, walking away from the group. His brain worked the situation over and over again, running possible solutions and outcomes. Not unlike a computer, he took in information and used it to formulate the most logical plan.

"Ok. I think I have an idea." He pivoted back to them, a determined fire lit in his dark brown eyes.

_Friday, May 23_

_12:12am_

_5 minutes ago_

Peter swiftly made his way to the school, his body dipping and rising with the current of air. When he landed at the nearest hospital a couple minutes ago, he received a message from Pepper. Though static corrupted most of what she said, he figured out what was important.

"Not safe… get… else and… there until… clear…"

"_Someone! Please, take him!" Peter shouted into the emergency room. Startled nurses turned to look at him. Seeing the blood seeping through the nylon on Clint's wound, they sprung into action, laying him on a gurney and starting to take him away. The man raised his hand, calling out in weak protest._

"_Kid," Clint croaked. Peter was surprised, but went to him, leaning down next to his ear. "Don't go… it's not… safe."_

_He smiled. "Don't worry about me. Besides, once I leave, you'll be okay. They're only chasing me."_

_Clint groaned and dropped his hand, too weak to argue any longer._

"Karen, try and send a text to Ms. Pepper and tell her where we are," he said, now jumping up the steps to the front entrance of his high school.

"I'm sorry, Peter, I cannot get through. Something is blocking my signal."

"It's fine… ok. What do to…" he paused when he reached the doors. "Karen!"

"Yes?"

"Can we send Droney with a message or something?"

"If we pre-record it, I believe so. I'm recording now. Please indicate when the message is over." A loud beep rang through his ears, which he figured meant he should start.

"Pepper! I'm at the school waiting out the danger you said was near. Clint is at Elmhurst; I don't- I don't know how he's doing. Please don't worry unless I'm not back in, like… 45 minutes. Stay safe! End message." A soft _click_ sounded as a small, black, spider-shaped drone detached from the suit. It hovered for a moment, but then buzzed off.

A jangle of keys called Peter's attention. He was still in his suit, so he whipped around and shot a web at whoever was holding them. John, the large janitor, stood there, looking like a deer in headlights. His hand was now webbed and stuck to the handle of the school's large wooden door.

"Oh! Sorry about that, sir. I thought you were… never mind."

"You-you're… Sp-piderMan!" He stuttered, seemingly dazed. Peter nodded, smiling.

"What are you doing here so late? It's midnight!"

The man shook his head, the wonder and amazement dropping from his features.

"Students," he said, rolling his eyes. "Some kids spray-painted the lockers. I had to clean it. I was just on my way home…" he glanced down at the webbing.

"Yeah, sorry about that. Listen… do you think you could help me out with something?" He stared at the keys that dangled from the sticky substance.

_The school at night is pretty creepy_, Peter thought. The once bright, loud hallways were pitch-black and quiet, and the cream-colored tile set a yellowy tinge to everything. Every sound they made was magnified by a hundred. They stopped in the cafeteria, which was quite large without all the tables.

Peter turned to John and chucked the keys at him. "Here. I can get out again. Thanks for all your-" a piercing sound jabbed through his skull, bringing him hard to his knees. His right arm burned with renewed fire and his fingertips began to numb. Peter cried out as another wave of pain shrieked into his head.

"What's… happening… to me…" he grunted. The janitor crouched down, a hideous grin on his face.

"'_Do not trust a person who claims to be honest, and never trust exaggerated friendliness_'. A Chinese Proverb. Oh, Peter. You never should have trusted me." He laughed and stood again.

"What… are you… doing…"

"The story of Peter Parker! Bitten by a radioactive spider, becoming Spider-Man! The grandest of tales! But, what about the untold stories? What about those of us who didn't get a comic-book retelling? You were gullible to think that you were the only one, just as you were gullible enough to believe me."

Peter fought the noise, using all of his strength to stagger to his feet. It screeched then, tearing through his cells until they all screamed in agony. He didn't even realize he was echoing them. The fire raced through his mind until he collapsed.

"Do you know how hard it is? Being a janitor? It sucks! All these selfish teens, forcing me to do their hard work. The last one was lucky I killed him." He stepped in front of Peter. "I have to make a call, so don't you go anywhere." He laughed at his own joke. "Understand?"

Peter didn't say anything. He yelped as a hard boot landed in his stomach. Spots danced in front of his eyes.

"I said _Understand?"_

"Y-yes…"

"Wonderful. Now if you'll excuse me," he ripped off Peter's webslingers and watch, and walked away, satisfied. John pulled out his phone and dialed.

"Karen…" Peter whispered, trying not to alert the man. "Karen, begin recording. Something's wrong, there's a janitor named... John Aremny and I think he's the threat. I'm stuck here and he's," he groaned in pain. "He's calling backup. He's enhanced… end… message…"

Another click as a drone left his suit.

"Yeah, yeah. I got the little punk. Yes, okay, I admit the Aremny worked… Don't let it get to your head, It also sucked!" A pause. "Yes, Midtown. ETA?" Another pause. "I can handle it until then don't worry. Yeah. Uh-huh. Bye."

John shook his head. "I work with a pack of idiots," he muttered. "But at least they're coming."

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed! See you next time!**

**-katilange ;)**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Hey, this one has been hard to write (thank you, writer's block). Sorry it has been awhile. I just started a new term at school, and am currently buried in Biology homework up to my neck. Ugh.**

**I really hope you enjoy, sorry again for the long wait.**

**Make sure to leave any comments/suggestions down below. :)**

_Wednesday, March 25_

_3:10pm_

_2 months ago _

_Before_

"Hey, Aunt May, do you think you could help me out with something?" Peter was leaning against the door frame, fidgeting with the cuff of his sleeve. She stopped tapping at her small laptop and looked up at him, smiling.

"That depends, baby. What is it?"

"Do… uh. Do you have a sewing machine?" There was a short silence as she looked at him. "Well… do you?"

"I think so… and why would you be needing this?"

"Oh! I-I want to sew pockets into my suit so I can carry my phone and headphones and stuff. I guess I should've started with that," he chuckled, rubbing his arm, then looked up quickly. "Not that the suit was bad or anything! I just-"

"It's fine, Peter. I'll look for it right now," she said. As she rustled through the closets, Peter stared down at her desk. Bills and other documents were cluttered on top of the dark wood. An uncomfortable pit of guilt sank into his stomach as he stared at the mail that was probably stressing May out. _I should get a job or something_, he thought.

_Thunk. _She dropped a large bulky box on top of the papers dramatically. "There we are. I'm ninety percent sure this is a sewing machine. Either that or a small child." She grinned at him. Peter couldn't help but returning her smile; May was contagious.

"Thanks," he grabbed it and began to leave. "Love you."

"Back at you, Spider-Man," she called, already typing on her computer again.

Peter fiddled with the machine all afternoon and, finally, he leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Finished." He glanced over at the clock and jumped. "Crap. May! I'm late to Mr. Stark's!" He scrambled up and hopped around, pulling on his suit. "I'm just going to swing over there! It'll be faster!"

He grabbed his phone and slid it into the pocket he made. With a satisfied smile, he velcroed the pocket shut and opened the window. Soft warm air blew into his face, lifting the small curls that were covering his eyes. He pulled on his mask and listened for May's response.

"Ok sweetheart! Be safe and be back by midnight! _No _later!"

"No promises," he mumbled, then louder, "Bye! Love you!"

"Midnight, Peter!" She called as he swung out of the window. "Midnight!"

_Friday, May 23_

_12:31am_

_Right Now_

"_Stature_ to establish. _Fiducia _to trust. _Imperium_ to control. And finally, _Proditione_ to betray. Four stages of the Aremny. And who would've thought. They actually worked. Interesting, wouldn't you say?" He laughed.

When Peter didn't answer, the janitor stopped laughing, seemingly losing interest, and focused on his phone, his fingers hitting the screen rapidly.

The pain in his arm was beginning to match the screeching in his head. They throbbed almost in unison. John had ripped off his mask, so Karen was no longer in his ear, comforting him or giving ideas. He was alone.

He tried a new tactic; focusing on the sound in his mind and then trying to dig past it. Peter let out a low growl of effort, trying not to alert the other man across the room, but this was hard. He strained to think… to use his brain. Everyone was always calling him a genius; it was time to prove it.

With a jolt, he remembered that afternoon… May, the sewing machine. He had to bite his lip to restrain the exclamation of joy when he felt a lump against his arm. This afternoon, he had shoved his phone and headphones into the pocket against his bicep, planning to listen to his favorite podcast a bit before dinner. It didn't happen because patrols were super busy. And then what happened with Clint-

He had to get his to his phone. He had to do this. This was Peter's moment to prove that he wasn't a child. That he didn't need to be protected. He knew that Mr. Stark still thought of him as a naive 15-year-old. But he was 16 now… and he'd seen so much. He could do this.

In slow, steady motions, he moved his left arm up to the pocket on his right. Upon realized it was velcro, and would not come undone without some noise, he cursed inaudibly. Peter could kick himself. _Why did it have to be velcro? I had buttons…_

Deciding fast, he let out a yell of pain and ripped the pocket open at the same time. John, who was texting on his phone, didn't even look up. He just smirked.

Peter slid the thin metal phone out of his pocket and gripped it tight. He rolled over, groaning. Once his back faced John, he began to fiddle with the screen and pulled up Spotify. He selected his "Mr. Stark" playlist and a weak smile found its way to his face.

Gently grabbing his white headphones that Tony had given him, he plugged them into the jack. He played _Back in Black_ and shoved the earbuds into his ears. Peter cranked the music way up, despite the whole "heightened senses" thing.

The relief was almost instant. AC/DC was combatting with the noise in his head, not killing it, but keeping it at bay enough to concentrate fighting this guy. He figured that backup wouldn't be there for at least ten more minutes. Hopefully that was enough time.

Peter began to stand, his aching bones protesting immensely. The large man turned to him and began yelling what Peter assumed to be profanities, but he couldn't hear anything but a guitar solo and low screeching.

The screeching began to increase, once again fighting with the classic rock. Peter just turned it up. He didn't care about the sharp pain in his ear that was beginning to manifest. His mind was focused on the fight.

Peter doubted that John had much physical strength beyond his power, but he didn't want to underestimate him. This could end badly if he didn't weigh every outcome. Raising his hands into his usual stance, he waited for the bigger man to make the first move.

_Friday, May 23_

_12:31am_

_Present_

"Tony! Are you seeing this?" Tony looked down at his phone where Pep was frantically typing on a hologram keyboard. Said keyboard was projected above two small black spider drones on the table.

The rest of his team gathered around the screen. "Are those… are those Peter's?"

Pepper only nodded. She kept typing until suddenly an image of Peter flew up into the air. He was smiling, as per usual. Karen's voice filtered through the phone to their ears.

"May 23, 12:12am. Message from Mr. Parker." Peter's began to speak. "'Pepper! I'm at the school waiting out the danger you said was near. Clint is at Elmhurst; I don't- I don't know how he's doing. Please don't worry unless I'm not back in, like… 45 minutes. Stay safe! End message.'" The image disappeared.

Pepper nodded and tapped on the other drone. "May 23, 12:22am. Message from Mr. Parker, 'Karen, begin recording." Tony noticed it was different in this recording. Peter sounded scared and… hurt. Despite himself, Tony feared the worst.

"Something's wrong, there's a janitor named... John Aremny and I think he's the threat. I'm stuck here and he's…" Peter groaned and the group cringed. "He's calling backup. He's enhanced… end… message…'" His small voice tapered off into silence and static.

Pepper raised a hand to her mouth and then everything was still. Karen's voice filled the emptiness. "I am unable to provide video footage. Would you like me to replay the message?"

Tony clenched his fists and cursed. "Enhanced? There's more? He won't be able to take more than two of them at a time! And he sounded hurt!"

Nat exhaled and thought for a moment. "We have to change the plan. Tony, how fast can you get to New York in the suit?"

"Not fast enough," he shook his head. "But the jet can get there in an hour or two."

"Take Bucky with you and get there _as fast_ as you can. We'll continue down here. Now go."

Tony nodded and rushed off, Bucky not far behind. They had to be quick if this was going to work.

_Friday, May 23_

_1:58am_

_Present_

"Peter? Kid?" Tony called quietly. He stepped cautiously into the school, ears straining for a sound. He perked up. Muffled crashes were coming from the direction of the gym. "There's a door farther to the South," he told Bucky. "You take that one, I'll take the main."

They split, both carrying their respective weapons in front of them. Bucky clung to the wall, almost like a spider, and crept forward. His footsteps didn't make a sound. Tony took less care, trying his best to be quiet, but finding it difficult with the suit on.

When he reached the doors to the gym, he looked down at Buck and signaled with his hands. He held up three fingers, then two, then one. They both burst into the room, expecting the worst.

Peter crashed into the bleachers again, pain sparking up his back. Sweat poured from his brow and breaths came in pants. His limbs felt like they were about to fall off, but he knew he couldn't stop. This was his only plan. Fight.

When the doors banged open, Peter half-expected more backup to come in. He wouldn't be able to keep this up for much longer. To his relief and surprise, Mr. Stark and Bucky came running in. But then he remembered who he was fighting. It wasn't safe for them in here.

"Mr. Stark! Bucky! You can't be here!" His opponent would be recovering soon. He had to act fast. Leaping forward, he grabbed them and flung them back out the doors, quite easily, yelling, "I'm so sorry!" Then he shot webs at the door, sealing them out. They couldn't help him now.

**A/N: Hey thanks for reading! The chapter isn't super long... I apologize. The next ones will hopefully be the climax. I think this story will probably be coming to an end pretty soon. I am working on something new, though. :0 **

**See you lovelies next time!**

**-katilange**


	20. Chapter 20: Fixing My Mistakes

**A/N: I am so sorry. I literally had to force myself to write this last chapter. Not because I don't love the story (it's my baby), but because I got soooo excited about the new one I am writing. It's called "In the Dark" btw, if you want to check it out.**

**Hope you enjoy and make sure to leave any comments/suggestions in the reviews below! :)**

_Friday, May 23_

_2:00am_

_Present_

"What the-" Bucky slid backwards into the wall, followed less gracefully by Tony, who crashed next to him in a heap. The doors ahead of them slammed shut and they heard a thud on the other side.

Tony shot up and raised his hand. The repulser glowed and began to buzz, indicating he was about to shoot. Bucky made of grunt of protest. "Wait. We don't know what's in there… or why Peter would send us out. Let's think about this for a second."

The bright glove lowered to his side. Tony sighed in frustration. "You're right… but we have to hurry," he said, gesturing frantically to the door.

"I know."  
"FRIDAY, take a scan of the gym. I need info on all enhanced humans in there."

After a low beeping she replied, "Peter Parker, 16; male. Heart rate: 126 bpm, Injuries sustained: one broken rib and a possible concussion. His movements are slowing down, most likely due to exhaustion."  
Tony groaned.

"Unidentified person, unknown age; tall female. Heart rate: 100 bpm, Injuries include a minor concussion and several fractured ribs. Abilities are unclear."

"Ok. Is that the only one?"

"There are 3 more people fighting, and one male unconscious. Unidentified person, unknown age; tall male. Heart rate: 120 bpm, Injuries include a broken ankle and dislocated shoulder. Unidentified person, unknown age; lean male. Heart rate: 117 bpm. Injuries are minor, other than a large gash in the left leg. Unidentified person, unknown age; small female. Heart rate: 79 bpm, Injuries sustained: none. Abilities are unclear."

He counted on his fingers. "That makes five."

Bucky scrunched his eyebrows in thought. "What was up with the last chick? She sounds like she barely got a scratch."

"How? It was chaos in there!"

"We better be careful," he said, strapping extra gun magazines on tighter.

"Boss, one more is down."

"Which one?"

"The tall male." Despite the situation, Tony felt a swell of pride in his chest. Peter was a great superhero.

"We've gotta get in there." Bucky cocked his gun. "Let's go kill these sons of-"

"Hey now," Tony stopped him. "You kiss your mother with that mouth? What would Steve say?"

At this point, Peter could no longer feel his arm. He kept fighting regardless, determined to defeat these sickos once and for all. But, now that the large man with the glowy hands was down, he almost wished he hadn't kicked Tony and Bucky. If it weren't for _her_, he wouldn't have. She was just too… unstable.

Unfortunately, when he turned to face the next foe, there was a crash from the other side of the room.

"I should have known it wouldn't hold them for long…" he muttered, panting heavily.

"Pete, we got your six!" Came Mr. Stark's cry, followed by a blast of light being blown toward one of the cronies.

"Get out, Mr. Stark you don't understa-"

Before he could finish, the air was yanked out of his throat, stealing words along with it. He choked and sputtered, clutching his throat and falling to his knees. Peter's heart sank when he saw Bucky also gasping for breath.

"Kid? What's wrong?" He rushed over to where Peter had fallen, kneeling down beside him. "What's happening-?"

"Mr. Stark." An Irish voice filled the large room. She stepped out from behind the bleachers, clenching her lithe, pale hands toward Peter and Bucky. She smiled. "Finally." All of her henchmen fighting that were conscious stilled, turning all attention to their boss. At this point, there were only two of them, a male and female.

Peter ripped off his mask to try and get more air, but none came. It was like the hospital all over again, like someone was on top of him. He couldn't breathe. His vision was getting fuzzy.

"Stop!" Tony shouted, hands on Peter's shoulders. "_Stop it!_"

From across the room, Bucky received air, gulping it in like water. The woman didn't notice; she seemed to be focused on Peter.

"He's dying right in front of you… nothing you can do to stop it. You will feel the anguish of losing a child. I'll make you feel it."  
"Why?!"

"Because! Pete… my baby… crushed by his own home. _His own home_. You know what story they told on the news? 'Thank goodness _Tony Stark_ was evacuated. Thank goodness he _escaped_'. What about _my son_?" Her face was twisted so far into a grimace it looked horrific.

"Do you think he would want this? You've killed… how would he feel knowing his mother killed? Peter's only 16… Please, I'm begging you. Stop it." Her arm wavered for half a second, then came back at full force.

Peter's face was beginning to turn purple. He started to writhe in Tony's arms, grasping for anything that would save him. His fingers clutched at the Iron Man suit.

"My son deserves to be standing here. Not you. Him. You hear me, Stark?! _Him!" _As she screamed this, a loud _crack_ resounded.

Her companions jumped at the noise, startled. The Irish froze in shock and fell to her knees, almost in slow motion. Her fall revealed Bucky behind her, panting and sweating, gun smoking. "Back off my little brother." She clutched her lower abdomen and splashes of red began to bleed through her white blouse.

Her back and head hid the linoleum floor with a sickening thud. She gazed up at the sky like she could see the stars. "I'm sorry, Pietro. I tried to make him see, I really did…" blood trickled out of her mouth. "You'll f-forgive me, won't you?" She didn't speak again.

"Peter? Kid?" He lay motionless in Tony's lap. He looked frantically up to Bucky. "Call someone! And take care of them!" He began to administer CPR to his kid, pushing at his chest and breathing into his mouth.

"Come on kid, don't die on me now. Think about May, about Ned, MJ. Nat has more Russian to teach you… we have more projects to do… Come on Peter, breathe!" Panic rushed into his system, driving him to keep compressing. He couldn't lose Peter. Not now.

"Come on… come on!"

Suddenly, Peter choked in a gasp of air and continued to choke. He put his arms around himself, face regaining a more normal color. He had barely moved before Tony grabbed him and held him close. The relief in his mind was insane.

His eyes watered as he hugged Peter tightly. Hopefully this whole thing was over now, but he also knew it was foolish to believe that. Every member of the team would relive with these months… the pain, the relief, the panic, for the rest of their lives. Peter most of all.

He rocked back and forth with his kid in his arms and whispered, "I promise you won't get hurt by any of my past mistakes ever again. I promise I'll make them all right before that happens."

This time, Peter believed him.

**A/N: Thanks for reading! I've had so much fun writing this, and sorry the last chapter was super short. I will always have a special place in my heart for this one, but I am working on new stuff!**

**Thank you again, and have a wonderful day. :)**

**See you next time,**

**katilange**


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